Smell the Flowers . . . and Bow

A practice for the summer months . . . . 

"Summer Silence"

In summer, I do not come to worship so much as worship comes to me.

In the morning, golden light splashes across my room,

and roses the color of wine greet me in the alley.

As they bow to me in the breeze, I bow back.

At noon, sunflowers refuse to turn their faces from me until again,

          I give a slight bow.

In the evening, the thunderclouds pile higher and higher,

          gathering pink and purple from the setting sun,

creating a vast mountain hanging suspended in the air.

Again, I pause and bow.

At night, when the pastel sky melts into a dark blue lake overhead,

the rusty beacon of Mars beckons above the horizon,

so that I cannot fail to notice and bend a knee.

The bows are small gestures, I know,

but surely better than all these ineffective words. 

And so in the end,

my praise turns to silence,

and the silence turns to me.

from Sonata for Voice and Silence: Meditations by Mark Bellitini. (adapted), Senior Minister First UU of Columbus, OH