By Elizabeth Eilers Sullivan

You are the sun and the moon and the rain

and the sweet mist of dew rising off the morning grass.

You are the melting mountain snow seeping into streams

and coursing over rocks.

You are the leaves and the trees and the limbs

connected to the trunk rooted

into the brown earth’s dirt rising up to the sky…

You are the whispers of tomorrow

and the beating of today

and the story of yesteryear.

You are all that was

and will ever-be and

the generous echoes of yes in

a canyon’s sweet walls.

Photo: (source)

Editor: Dana Gornall



Latest posts by Elizabeth Eilers Sullivan (see all)