Your praises are sung
by the birds in their daybreak chorus
and the wolf in her plaintive howl.
Sacred melodies are played by the wind
as she dances among trees
or sweeps across grasses.
Gentle percussion can be heard in raindrops
and the woodpecker’s drill.
Majestic hymns sound in cymbal-crash of waves
and the deep, bass voice of the thunder.
Nature sings. And in praising you we join our voices
with the chuckling stream
and the insects’ buzz
and the laughing ducks
and the shimmering leaves
and the homely, bubbling call of city pigeons.
If we were to keep silent,
even the stones would shout out.