Thursday, November 19, 2009

Thursday Poem - Praise Song

Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.
Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;
though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there's left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn't cracked. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it's all we have, and it's never enough.

Barbara Crooker, from Radiance

2 comments:

One Woman's Journey said...

Dear Cate, thank you for your Poem - Praise Song. You reminded me this morning of a scripture from Isaiah that tells me to "put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness". I needed to be reminded of this. Continued healing blessings sent your way.

Anonymous said...

This describes November feelings exactly. Thanks for posting it.