Praise and thanksgiving

"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 - Radiance