Spring prayer

My palace is my cabin

My temple is the sun

A firehouse in the heart

I pray without words

To the water that flows

And the wind that blows

Color of ice, color of white

Color of the dry on the old tree

From East to West

Winter has wilted at last

Color of grey turning purple

Yellow and red, filtering through

April rain misting the hills and my skin

Forest floors dressed in wild grass

The season has returned a full circle

The sun is napping on my roof

No words said, no words heard

All felt through my veins