These Are Her Wonders by Madeline Gleason Lyrics

Beauty drips like soft light between the trees,
Huddles like birds on the red autumn leaves.
These are her wonders, but she is not these.

She bears the wound of darkness in her breast,
And healing for the wound. Her fingers pressed
Against your temples bring the deepest rest.

She is not darkness, nor the wound, nor peace--
These are her wonders, but she is not these.

She is in dust and in the hard black ground,
And in the sun's hair flaming and unbound.
Ever astounding; always to astound.

She is in wind that sprawls against the eaves;
In shooting stars, in laughter. All that grieves
Bears something of her, yet she is not these.

I think the heart that loves, the heart awake
Most truly, knows the path her wonders take
And drinks a strong libation for her sake.
The wakened heart must follow when it sees
Her signs and wonders, yet knows she is not these.