The Spruce in Snow

Spruce in Snow

The spruce was meant to wear winter’s snow
as surely as the rose was meant to wear the summer’s dew.

Look how its branches raise up to accept the fall,
how its needles so gently hold the fragile powder.
And look how its form is graced by the gift
that it so humbly receives.

It’s almost like watching the rise and response
of a prayer of praise, a breath of love
between the Yes and its creation.

Homage to a Wood Fire

Glowing Wood FireFor Patrick

To burn real logs, cut from real trees
that lived and died right over the hill,
and sawed to length by a real man
seems such a privilege.

Perhaps it has always been so.
But in another generation, no one
will know.  Not here, in our managed
and engineered world.

So I bask in the heat of this fire,
the cat beside me, savoring
its soft warmth, and vowing
to carry this moment, with praise,
into eternity.

Raising Her Arms in Praise

Autumn Maple

Imagine her bliss, looking skyward at her children, gowned in their finest, glowing with joy.

Imagine her rapture, hearing them rustle in the wind, singing the Yes as a rainbow of song.

Surely the ecstasy of this hour fills her every cell, from her topmost branches to her deepest roots.

And oh, with what grace she surrenders, motionless and humble, raising her arms in praise.

 

How Can I Thank You, Sweet May?

Pink Tulips with Grape Hyacinths

Oh, sweet May!  How can I thank you?

All winter I dreamed that pink tulips were sleeping beneath the snow.  And the snow went on and on this year, and I shivered in the cold and wondered whether and why I should keep on keeping on.  When the nights were darkest, I would cling to the thought of pink tulips and remind myself that you would come.

Now here they are, lovelier than I ever could have imagined, and real.  With these cups of joy, you reward my endurance.  And more than that, you fill my heart with joy, and my soul with praise.

Trees Pray Laughing

Pines in SnowThe pines rise from the ground like prayers, their straight trunks reaching right for heaven.  I imagine that if they were in fact prayers, they would be joyful ones, full of earth’s laughter.

Here she is, after all, her springtime children just beginning to stir deep beneath this blanket of shimmering snow.  And to balance them, on her south side, the leaves taking on the faintest hints of fall.

Oh, how grand to be spinning around a friendly star, dressed in oceans and clouds!  Oh, how wondrous all the life that comes along for the ride!

If the rising trees are prayers, I’m pretty sure that they’re filled with laughter and praise.

The Gatherer of Praise

The Gatherer of PraiseAs the Festival of Light drew to a close, the creatures of the forests and hills, the cities and plains drifted off to sleep.

Their hearts were with filled with happiness and their spirits were singing in praise of the Light that had been born to them anew.

Their songs soared up to the heavens, and  there they caught the ear of the Gatherer of Praise.

It was her duty, and her honor, to collect praise, wherever in the cosmos it arose.  And so she flew to earth and held the small planet in her loving arms.

She listened to the songs rising from the hearts of all the living beings, from the tiniest to the greatest, from the simplest to the most complex.  And she recorded them in her own heart, each and every note, even the faintest.

And when she had gathered every note of every song, she carried them, with utmost tenderness and care, to the absolute center of Paradise and then sang them to the heart of Great Yes.  And its love washed out in waves that spun on and on, forever.

The Gatherer of Praise: A Happiness Tale

Christmas AngelAs the Festival of Light drew to a close, the creatures of the forests and hills, the cities and plains drifted off to sleep.

Their hearts were with filled with happiness and their spirits were singing in praise of the Light that had been born to them anew.

Their songs soared up to the heavens.  And there they caught the ear of the Gatherer of Praise.

It was her duty, and her honor, to collect praise, wherever in the cosmos it arose.  And so she flew to earth and held the small planet in her loving arms.

She listened to the songs rising from the hearts of all the living beings, from the tiniest to the greatest, from the simplest to the most complex.  And she recorded them in her own heart, each and every note, even the faintest.

And when she had gathered every note of every song, she carried them, with utmost tenderness and care, to the absolute center of Paradise and then sang them to the heart of Great Yes.  And its love washed out in waves that spun on and on, forever.

On This Glad Day

Pines Reaching Skyward

On this glad day, when hearts touch and hands meet, when bonds are renewed in spite of it all, when eyes speak of love and lips voice warm welcomes, let us lift our arms in praise.

May the sweetness of our gathering soar to the sun and descend to all hearts everywhere, enfolding them in compassion and in joy.

On this glad day, beneath this broad sky, as we gaze at our bounteous fortunes, let us raise our thankful praise.