A Hundred White Lanterns
Every day, every day,
One hundred water birds fly overhead
Just as dawn breaks
To seek their daily bread in the
Marsh just beyond the trees.
And every night, every night,
A minute before sunset
They return to roost in the scrub trees
Around the brackish lake
Looking as though someone has hung
A hundred white lanterns in the green boughs.
Though I watch for them patiently
each dawn and each dusk
sometimes counting them as they pass overhead
I never take them for granted…
Never cease to be amazed…
Or to be called to a place of Wonder
That creation is inviting my attention
And calling me to learn
From these winged teachers
Sent by a Divine Headmaster.
The Celtic Monk Musings 