My Hope

I wake hopeful as this day begins,
but I am not the source of my hope.

My hope comes, as gift and loving act,
from the Mind and Heart that conceives
and constructs molecules and mountains,
mysteries and moments of deep knowing.

I will walk through this day alone yet accompanied.
My song will come from a depth I do not understand,
but I will sing, nonetheless, for the melody is
compelling, irresistibly welcome in earth pain
and human pleasure.

When the sun settles on the western mountains,
I will watch the soft rain feed the grassland and
I will ask of the day — did I live kindly with
those around me?  Did I accomplish something
today that counts for good?

And, having examined the experience of the day,
I will step momentarily into the gentle rain,
lift my hands and face to the sky and whisper
”thank you” to the Sacred Breath, my hope for
days to come.