At the meadow鈥檚 edge the river speaks in syllables of glass and song; Paula listens, offering thanks鈥� the current carries it along.
Sunrays spill like consecration, golden incense on fern and stone; wildflowers crown the narrow path鈥� violet, marigold, and bone-white alone. Holy Nature Paula Birthday
In a hush of dawn the forest wakes, light braided through cathedral leaves; soft hymns of robins stitch the air, and every blade of grass believes. At the meadow鈥檚 edge the river speaks in
Friends arrive鈥攆ox, and crow, and child鈥� their laughter peals like chapel bells; they stitch a garland for her hair, and stories bloom in joyous swells. Friends arrive鈥攆ox, and crow, and child鈥� their laughter
Paula walks where moss is holy, bare feet tracing root and rhyme; her breath a bell, the stream her choir, each fallen branch a measure of time.
In that cathedral, earth and sky conspire to bless her passing year; each heartbeat is a psalm of green, each smile the sacrament of cheer.