Like the Earth

Like the Earth that yawns and flings aside
the sheets of night and, naked, meets the day,
out of darkness, out of sleep I come
to kneel at last, who never learned to pray.
Like a bird that fills its silver throat
with praise of all each new-dawned day will bring,
full of hope and filled with simple awe
I lift my voice, who never learned to sing.
Like the tumbleweed before the wind
which moves with grace for all it moves by chance,
I set myself adrift and seek the breeze
to leap for joy, who never learned to dance.
Because I love, the world is fresh and new.
I learn, I am, I say myself . . . for you.