that doesn't stop coming
Like the parched autumn
landscape
day after day of drought
Or skinny deer
in a lean mast year
wandering in search of acorns
Or tree swallows' fruitless
flights
to gather insects
in a drizzling cold
April
Like wilted September spicebushes
who wait for rain
perhaps
someday
showers will fall
and we
will be revived
once again
When the day dawns dreary
and your strength falters,
may you be opened to the life around you,
the bees' gentle buzzing
and the hummingbird's zest.
When the night has been too long,
filled with sorrow or fear,
may the morning dew greet you
and the rising mists
lift your spirit.
When your moments are lonely
and far too quiet,
may you be comforted by the insects' song
and the twittering of young birds, learning
their own voice.
When your eyes are weary from too much work
or too many tears,
may autumn's hues soothe you,
bronze mums on the doorstep,
September's first crimson leaves.
When all is not as you had dreamed
nor hoped,
may the companions outside your door
carry you tenderly as you find
your way.
Within our silence
the Song.
Within our longing
the Promise.
Within our darkness
the Light.
Within our sorrow
the Presence.
Within our tumult
the Comfort.
Within our long waiting
the coming
of God.
