From the cliff's edge
you can watch the earth move.

Hover over the waters
and see how the Spirit blows

and broods.  The sea
and all its creatures still crash

and tumble and return
to their deep silences.  

The sun rises and sinks
below the waves.  The curved

ocean clings to earth’s edge,
obedient, except where

something urges it upward.
The voice that calls

forth the mountains and summons
pelicans and wild geese

says to all things, Rise.  
Consent to the upward urge

that calls you out of gravity
into the welter of heat and sound

and color that will not stay,
that you do not own, but may

have for a day, and then
for a night when it falls.