Lauds, Summer: An Antiphon
It never grows old, this sun rising here
every morning
As much as I ever wanted
anything, listen:
birdsong, a dying language
Practice
its rise and fall, its
loss, familiar
as the body
You can never
get close enough
to the ground to pray
Long blue heron, sunslant
on the underwing
armfuls of butterfly weed
and orange
Holy, holy this morning, here
and gone
Jeanie Tomasko is the author of Sharp as Want (Little Eagle Press), a poetry/artworks collaboration with Sharon Auberle, and Tricks of Light (Parallel Press). She lives near Madison, Wisconsin and works as a home health nurse in the Madison area. She and her husband, Steve, grow garlic, eat garlic, give away lots of garlic and enjoy the outdoors, venturing out often via foot, ski or a couple paddles and a seaworthy canoe.
qarrtsiluni 
This is a classic poem of worship for the ages. I have learned from this and will keep it when I want to know what real poetry looks like. Reminds me of Mary Oliver but with her own unique voice.
Very beautiful, a wonderful creation.