Vox clamantis in deserto

The wilderness is not desolate when
it is illuminated by one who
sees every leaf and branch for its own self,
and patiently teases out its meaning.
The prophet’s voice is heard, speaking softly,
close to the earth, divining the waters
that well up unseen. Softly the creatures
of the wild places gather to hear him,
eyes like lamps in the night as they hear his song
re-enchanting the world, weighing its meanings.
One day the waters will run free again,
awakening the land from sleep. Till then,
listen to the man who sings of trees and stars,
waters and woods, a voice in the wild.

(for Andrew Brown)