We go down to the rock each morning
you and I, in search
of some religion.
I pray with your voice
and you with mine
until the air
around us shakes
with exhale and we fall
to the ground. Soon
there will be more
of us, this crawling
group of water seekers,
and as we loosen the gravel
from our elbows
and toes, a cloud
full of sound
and voice
will cover us like a quilt
and in that final moment
when everything around us
crashes with the grateful
taste of sand
and lake, we will have the rhythm
that we need to stand
heel in stone
and receive our gritty absolution
from this
our devotion.
So this is my favorite. You have such a way with words…a true poet.