Small

Nature loves to enfold us.
Mists, prairies, waters.
This Sabbath morning
we honor the small.
Only twelve
gathered in a circle
at the center of the crossroad,
singing and telling
their journeys. 
Only two gazing
through each other’s eyes
into vast distances.
Only one in
solitude, floating
on her ocean of zeros.
Now we enter
the heart's silence
to touch creation's source,
which requires less,
not more.
Out of the small
Comes the great.
Mists, prairies, waters.