the sun appeared suddely in a gray

sky and rain continued.  the shaft of light

broke through the trees to land where a dead log lay-

ing its soul to the ground slowly in sight

of weeds was praying to the rain.  it is

a holy place.  rain collected inside

to form a small world for a genesis

of smaller lives.  the world cares for outside

appearances.  even death is alive

within this sunlit shower.  there is not

much time before the mystical lives are

destroyed by a wandering cloud.  they taught

the reasons on paper, vernacular

of trees.  but wisdom is here first derived.

-------- An excerpt from A Chorus of Voices
by Kurt Messick
Dry Bones Press, February 2003