Mad with Exultation

Where wind sings green on lamb-nibbled paths
where air is brushed by the sweep of sharp wings
and the sun-heaped flowers stare -
till I could scoop them up
to lull in my arms,
that note -
is it light, water or bird?
This breath I feel on my brow
is it fragrance of pear blossom?

I am drunk and drink for evermore
this adoration.
No song before
was ever poured in this pure modulation.
I do not know 
if I am looking on 
sun
earth or flower
for all the world today
rings mad
with exultation.

- Sister Mary Agnes, of the Poor Clares

Gratefuls:
- climbing the castle bulwarks through flowers taller than I
- painting the under sink space
- fun in my online English class: prepositions with Rosie's Walk,