All creation seemed to hold its breath:

Clouds kneeling low in the valleys;
stones pensive in ancient vigil.

Pearl-grey thinning

now smokey lavender

smallest leaves,
astir with joyful rumour—

silken violet

blush rose

gilded peach

and prayer flags,
thin as beggars’ rags,
humbled still.

A glint of saffron
hastens—

then a glow—

the Himalayas
before a palace sky.

a bright chatter, the brook,
all silver and song.

Ridge calling ridge,
valley echoing valley.

Eyes eastward—
all creation

beholding one

Light