Thursday, November 17, 2011

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

6 comments:

Guy said...

Hi Cate

Just Beautiful.

Guy

One Woman's Journey - a journal being written from Woodhaven - her cottage in the woods. said...

No words to describe the beauty of this image.
God is good....

Mystic Meandering said...

Exquisite photo, as always - capturing the symmetry, the balance of the natural world. So lovely to gaze upon with reverence for the natural rhythms of life...

Nan said...

Such a nice poem. Her depth of feeling reminds me of Mary Oliver a little.

Tabor said...

That thin sunlight that makes me cold...actually.

liliannattel said...

Gorgeous photo, beautiful poem. It so perfectly captures this time of year.