The cool misty mornings after the rain,
When the water still trickles off green leaves,
When the air seems so pure, alive and clean
That it’s a new baptism when one breathes.
When sandals are soggy against my feet
When a slight fog holds secrets that I cannot see
When my blood cools in the breeze-- lilac-sweet
When the world has been washed clean and made free
In the gray of the sky, soon to turn blue,
In fading clouds, which are Heaven's own clothes
That time I no longer search for what's true
For truth seems to be what all nature knows.
This is the time when I truly can pray.
When, truly, a prayer is all that I can say
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