Robed in the gray, lowering April clouds,
Silent forms float across the rocky hills.
A great horned owl ushers cottontail worshippers to their seats.
The incense of cactus flowers floats toward the
Thousand candles glimmering overhead.
The silver-faced director rises, poised,
Looking to the attentive choir.
As the dayglow fades, the chorus begins.
Singing,
Sighing,
Dancing,
The song dogs praise the God of the Desert.
The cathedral rings with their ancient hymns,
Staccato notes punctuating the rich oratorio.
Little ones, still trying to learn their parts,
Sing enthusiastically,
But slightly off-key.
The song dogs inspire reverence for El Shaddai,
The God of the Desert.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Praise for your rich imagination. You are a wonderful imagist. Warm regards, Sandra