The Rains Have Settled on the Mount
The rains have settled on the mount,
In Miyanoura’s pass,
The mists so fine,
The light divine,
The godly shine,
A sacred sign,
Through heavens grey as glass.
The pine trees whisper secret odes,
In subtle, swaying talk,
Neath heaven’s spray,
In sweeping grey,
This soft foray,
In wet display,
As heron bob and stalk.
The Yakushima sanctuary,
Is perfect and unique,
The clouds that roll,
Above the knoll,
Anoint my soul,
And make me whole,
In pastures by the creek.
The rain, a balm of healing falls,
The sound so winsome pure,
The downpours sing,
With pattering,
Such gifts they bring,
To me, a king,
This beauty is my cure.
The glinting bauble rain drops placed,
Upon the leaves, like gems,
They catch the glint,
Of heaven’s tint,
Like sparks from flint,
So bright I squint,
Their beams like diadems.
I will pray for naught today,
For everything is here,
The pregnant sky,
Where falcon fly,
The welkin’s sigh,
My lullaby,
From deities so dear…
adamdaniel 