Welcome Blushing Air

Blessed are you, Creator 

of glowing purple mornings

which might or might not 

be a sailor’s delight or 

some kind of warning,

sometimes blue,

somewhere pink, 

entering or disappearing

over stories of what I intended

to do, who I hoped to become,

coming back again inside

birdsongs that move

like saints through air

above holy green forests while

looking for crumbs of daily bread 

amid glimpses of your glory

in whatever rises back to them.

Blessed are you, Giver

of light and dark purple

questions, and gratitude

for the glowing molecules 

of dust dawning this day.