His Silent Valley

It is another day in the Lord.
     I step from my room into the silence of the valley ‚Äì
    an almost audible silence that is the language of God.

The rising sun has yet to reach the ridge of mountains,
    Forming this heaven on earth.
Tall grass covering the meadow stands as an army
    at attention awaiting orders of the day.
No breeze rattles the leaves, the buzz of flies and
    bees has not yet begun.
All creation waits with hope for today’s silent message
    of love.

Suddenly the bells of St. Benedict’s sound the call to
    prayer.  Men of devotion begin their chant ‚Äì prayers
    for the salvation of the world.
In response, the lowing of a single steer confirms the
    valley‚Äôs readiness for the new day;  the bees and
    flies, now in flight, join in busy harmony;  the first
    light touches the tundra of Sopris‚Äô peak . . . Sopris,
    magnificent focal point of an architect‚Äôs dream.

As this meditation ends, the valley comes alive in full sun,
    rejoicing with me in the experience of union with the
    one God.
Sky, mountains, forests and all God’s creatures testify
    as one to His glory and sustaining love.


Written in Snowmass, Co.