Looking out,
way, way out over the distant hills
and valleys
and trees
and seemingly endless greens of
fields and cared-for land
for small living things,
I hold my gaze out
over all this earth
and see the sky,
loving blue and clouded with layers
as deep and rich
as the green below.

I raise my hands
and sing.

I sing out to all the living things,
for all that lives,
and all that hears and comprehends, and some thought dumb,
they still respond. For they are loved—
with love springing up!/out!/in!
they open life-eyes in song.

I sing and sing and sing
to all and in all and over all
and under and through and beyond
because the song is love
and because I am loved
and love.

The wealth of good is here
where we are never done,
where we are always here
and now
and listening as we sing,
and joining in the other songs
of all that is here,
so much, much here,
that ever lives and grows
and bends and flows
because
because of love.