Retreat

I went to a men's retreat a few months back, down in scenic New Hampshire. The retreat itself was the usual men's ministry stuff, nothing to write home about, but I did have a good time walking in the woods and kayaking with friends through a nearby glade. Afterward, I wrote a poem about the experience, which I then promptly misplaced. I thought I had somehow lost it it forever, but a few days ago I found it at last. So, just in case I lose it again, I'll put here for safe keeping:

1.

Kayaking among the water lillies,
we peered into their secret interior worlds of infinite yellow
couched in a burst of white petals.

2.

The blue heron tried to fool us by its stillness,
gazing sidewise through cold eyes unafraid;
then, as we drew near, curling its long neck it calmly lunged
into the bright air.

Spurning a clear path to the sky,
it fled among low pine branches, ducking and weaving without haste
on over the crest of a wooded hill and away,
keeping itself free.

Thank you, maker of pitcher plants and dragonflies,
floating lillies and the heron's fearless eye,
earth, air, water, and sky.