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Light through a
Stained glass window:

The red gold sun
Casts hushed light
Reverencing the mountains
Like a hymn so low
So full of awe
You can not quite
Hear the words

Those very words
I use all my powers of heart and mind
To bring to you. Morning.
I pull over my car.
I behold the mountains.
Squint my eyes, listening
As if I could unzip the sky
And paint God.

Squinting t o hear.

Rich brown of mountains
High against faded blue jeans
Morning sky, faded blue eyes

And above all like God
Pike’s Peak is white today
The wind pulls the snow
From peak’s forehead
And casts white spray
Into air like sea foam.

It is holy.

I can not quite make out the words

“I am higher than you.”

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