Holy Places

Old church in ruins
Ancient walls building up anew
Holy river racing below
Yellow warbler
In silverlace vine from China
Elk tracks in the sandy bank
Take the shoes from off your feet

Holy hills ring the sky
Bowl open to the sky
Habitation of lizards 
Sanctuary of small birds
The white earth and the red
In harmony

Dusty tread for our recreation
We who do not own this
But belong to it, like the old ones
Said. 
Our querencia finds us watching
The rose-fingered dawn
Through alien trees
While the doves come for water

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae