Our Father
Source of the sky, of the horizon,
of every tree and all the circling
patterns of connection,
impulse for the life that hums
in every kind of breathing
(When I see myself as
everything I can perceive, conceive,
then, in every pulse
you are the lift
that flies my desire)

Which art in heaven
Whose essence is the kiss
of bliss, the unimagined
rush of every hope fulfilled,
the peace of perfect, whirring
harmony

Hallowed be thy name . . .
(It takes a long time
to get through the prayer like this —
most of a bike ride —
even when I’m not distracted.
The streaming landscape helps me —
provides the illustration and the inspiration
on earth as it is in heaven).

©Wendy Mulhern
August 26, 2014