My hesitant footsteps muffled by leaves,
Meander this ancient way...

I trudge through my dusty yard,
Tasting the smoky air...

I don't know when this happened,
Or how this came to be...

Dawn peeping through,
A breath of air...

As I came to worship, looking forward to the day,
As I came to worship, chafing at the delay...

Sky shaded grey, air turns crisp,
Light softly fades, wind turns brisk...

Rain falls... why do poets write so much on rain?
Poets can say what others cannot...

I, like a filthy pig,
Wallow in the mud of my sin...

Radient shades of amber illusion,
Dance inside my sun-filled mind...