Praise Song to the Earth

For raindrops cascading from stamen to petal,
or hummingbirds darting from trumpet to bell,
for uncounted bluebottles gleaming like metal,
and dragonflies riding the pond’s gentle swell –
for children who gather their armfuls of roses,
and chittering squirrels, for quick chickadees
in the high August branches, where afternoon closes
them into an emerald circle of peace –
for quilt-colored butterflies, wood ducks, and beaver,
for shimmering fishes and fireflies that burn,
I give thanks, gentle Gaia, that I’m the receiver
of such treasures – with nothing to trade in return.

BJ Tate