is that they ask nothing of us.
But I hear things differently
from Gaia, and this wild canyon land.
The chill river asks me to submerge, even in the coldest of weather.
The first light of dawn: "Rise from your warm bed."
The rising sun: "Stand and feel me
come into your heart."
The soft ground: "Please, bare your feet."
Every tiny miracle, reaching,
prays to me to notice,
to bless with my attention and gratitude....
To Be Prayer.
Loba's "Living Gratitude Giving Back to Gaia"