It begins with the shrill cacophony of noise
  loud glunks, shrill tweets, hanging
Between the night and light
 one denying the others coming
They are in competition for the rising
  or the edge of night veiled
As mists have settled all round
  a sealing of water and word
Then it breaks in orange flags over the hills
  a temporary peace as everything settles
Waiting for the quiet space of prayer
  in this shrouded morning 
Wrapped with the care of mourning
  coming slowly to allow uplifted hands
Poured out soul, a place to start
  the healing balm of raised song
A glimpse of gently coming
  with the wind a Spirit of newness
Surrounded by the glory of the day
  a place of worship with all creation 
Raised in song, prayer, prophet
  a call to step into the water and be claimed