The meadow is anointed with fresh light.
The dancing sun hangs ribbons in the trees.
The woods break forth in flecks of green,
and birds of praise fly up into your eye-blue sky.
Earth knows how to adore you:
she blossoms forth without her thought or strain.
We, too, no less than rising daffodils,
are all ourselves your exaltation,
each raised up from our winter's deathly sleep,
each breathed to life eternal by your joy,
your joy in us, in us your life, your light.
The seeds and buds and bulbs and roots don't wait
form some far distant rescue to arrive;
they rise from life within, your passion's flow,
your pure delight embodied, just like us.
O Holy One, we are your resurrection,
we your beauty, we your Life made flesh.
May we then live this day in gratitude
and love, your holy ones, your adoration.