Thank-you for the storm of spirit,
the reaching cedars,
arbutus of quiet water,
thank-you for sudden angel waves
gulls soaring in the spaces
between your words,
and flowers shouting colors
in strange tongues.
Dumbfounded driftwood sculpted into graceful bodies
dance ashore to gather in the pavillion
between high water, waving grasses,
and clouds of singing Seraphim.
Tear my sails again, thou spirit storm,
be my rudder, my watermark,
my anchor and the rock
I wreck upon!