A Quiet Clearing in the Vile Clamor *

Where young cardinals
sample creamy hydrangea blossoms

where baby red-winged blackbirds
splash in shady spots

where plump bumblebees burrow
into hostas' fragrant flowers

where sneaky squirrels steal sour fruit
from the ancient apple tree

where black swallowtails float
above purple phlox

where sphinx moths sip from beebalm
the color of raspberry wine

where the garden beckons
offering herself to all.

* Title courtesy of Stephen Berg

Gratitude in Tumultuous Times

 

For granting this space, that I may share 

 in Your creative, sustaining of life, 

thanks be to You, O God.

 

 

     For the miracle of seeds that turn the simplicity of lawn    

into a riot of color and beauty,

haven for small creatures,

thanks be to You.

For the ever present late-summer music of

crickets and katydids

and the goldfinch song among the sunflowers,

for monarchs and swallowtails and bees of all sizes feeding

on buckwheat in the hedgerow,

thanks be to You.

For blossoms that feed the
  migrating ruby-throats,

almost-never-still, zipping

back and forth between flowers,

feeders and each other,

thanks be to You.

For the deep peace of such a place,

for the gift of participating in the provision of Your care,
over and over,
day by day,

moment by moment,

thanks be to You.