At the Breast of Eden

Verdant hills hide me
Wrapped in leafy arms
Covered in arbors
Dogwood and hickory
Oak and ash
Kin to my soul.

Woody melodies lull
The mourning dove’s coo
Percussion of woodpeckers
Cicadas hum high tenor
Toads grunt the bass line
Sharp trill of the thrush, high above.

I breathe Earth’s morning wonder.
Dewey soil
Sweetens the air
Fragrance
Blended with the tang of bitter root
Wafts on the wing-stirred breeze.

Brushing creation’s brow
I pleasure in wildflowers
Indian paintbrush
I lay
Quilted in clover
Patched purple and white.

Be still.
Heaven has come to ground.
I am at peace
Suckled
At the breast of Eden.