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Walking through redwoods in rain

A cathedral drenched in water.

Each branch bowing to earth

Holding its rosary of droplets

The incense of bay lingers as I pass

Pungent in my nostrils, sacred and holy

The forest sings a watery litany

A canticle of drips and splashes

Deer step gingerly through sodden ferns

Silent monks on their way to prayer

The trees repent of dead branches and needles

In this annual baptism

Confessions of the seasons past

Litter the path before me

I would carry this holiness with me

Possess it for another time

I stretch forth my hand in supplication

But receive only a handful of rain.

–Brigit, 2008

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