the bells of St. Patrick's Church
announce the start of 9 o'clock mass.
Here, at Murray Lake,
I'm sitting in the grass,
my backrest is a boulder.
Small bass patrol the shallows
while shallower still, minnows
swim in schools of protection.
A Yellow Warbler is singing
from an arching twig of willow.
Spring has ripened into summer.
Swallows sweep low to the lake.
The morning breeze strokes the surface.
I am writing into words
what I see, hear, and feel;
bliss for my senses,
but thinking and praying
for the home bound, the handicapped
from St. Patrick's parish.
Offering thanks for my blessings,
as I contemplate the comfortable
start of this new day outdoors.