The Choir

The Choir

...singing in layered harmonies.

The poet grins
as he falls asleep
to a chorus of coyotes,
then awakes to silence,
the moon now low.

The poet nods
because she knows
dawn is inevitable,
when all waking voices
sing soft and low.

The poets and the coyotes,
the moon and the breeze,
form a choir called life,
known for its crescendos,
beloved for its resting beats.

---

Nature is the one song of praise that never stops singing.
~ Richard Rohr