My Cathedral

In the cathedral of my soul,
The air is cool, the light is dim,
A deep-toned bell begins to toll,
A rhythmic, resonant, somber hymn.

The walls are tree trunks, tall and wide,
Reflecting winter, fall and spring,
Summer dwells in branches high,
And warms my heart with feeling.

The bell sings on, its deep voice true,
Now joined by others, low and high,
The wind sings counterpoint, passing through,
And carries my paean to the gleaming sky.