Gloria Mundi
Illumed by Sunday sunshine, cathedral windows
of my summer garden raise my heart in praise.
slanted early light shines through petals and leaves,
beneath cerulean frescos, cross-hatched with clouds.
Cardinal vines raise wine-red chalices to lips of bumblebees
Morning glories, ascend porch pillars, unfurling heavenly blues.
A choir of Angel’s trumpets bow like white-robed monks
in fragrant reverence.
Butterflies on stained glass wings— too perfect for this world—
and too miraculous, flutter by in vows of silence.
Hummingbirds probe luminous mysteries in honeysuckle,
then, sated with nectar, buzz heavenward like prayers.
From sacred shade trees
thrushes and cardinals carol bright hosannas
while a wren tends her eggs in a potted petunia—
and I mistake a cowbird’s call for dripping water.
I hear a bell from the church down the street
and wonder who first imagined how praise
for all this magnificence
could fit inside a building.
by Cheryl Anne Hale
City of Middletown Poet Laureate
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