Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning’s early light,

meadow lark on the rise

cotoneaster, feverfew,

wild thyme and bramble rose.

Step by step, each to each

to where the other goes:

hymnals and unison

seated in rows.

And I who walk behind them

to the valley down below

must trust in common wonders

and hope that it might be so.

Noonday shadows at their feet

mistle thrush in the hedge

hillsides and riversides,

saxifrage and sedge.

Pace by pace, side by side

each trusting in the way:

parables and stories

in the highest light of day.

And I who walk behind them

to the valley down below

must hope for common wonders

and trust that it might be so.

Shadows of the afternoon,

fieldfare and sage

measure out the silence

of another time, another age.

Tread by tread, step by step

each timing with the other:

sister blesses sister soul, 

brother blesses brother.

And I who walk behind them

to the valley down below

must pray for common wonders

and hope that it might be so.

Twilight shadows lengthen

with the evening’s lowering sun:

veiled shades and violet shades

as the long day is done.

Step by step, each to each

to where the other leads:

beatitudes and blessings,

miracles in the meads.

And those who walk behind me

to the valley down below

place trust in common wonders

and know that it will be so.

Painting Sunday Morning by Angelo Morbelli