Haiku: Mass

Cold rain, the blue noise

beats upon us weary men;

Father, Kyrie.


Green corn, opening,

your life breath moving, cooling;

the Spirit reigns, flies.


In dark terror, I

cling to firm cliffs, solid land,

your words affirming.


Holy holy Lord,

the forests sway, erupt, shout

this Sanctus solstice.


My great Messiah

soars through rushing waters, that

ferocious current.


The fallen oak stands

up: life gushes from God’s Lamb

a green, breathing world!


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