These Mornings

All these mornings
are one morning;
over and over I am
greeted by the new day—
who greets me but
this Self that is your Self?
Beauty flows fresh,
mist and light glowing
in the valleys, brilliance
of gold breaking through
the leaves and branches
of the trees. All around
me the treasures of
the soul have gathered
as beings, as the created
newness of the World.
If I could ask for
any gift to be given
to us all,
over and over
it would simply be
This!
This!
This!

Posted by kind permission of the poet.