on the edges of a lake
are settling now
to winter darkness.
Whatever was going to die
is gone —
crickets, ferns, swampgrass.
Bare earth fills long spaces of a field.
a single oak leaf
brown and shining
like a leather purse.
See what it so delicately offers
lying upturned on the path.
See how it reflects in its opened palm
a cup of deep, unending sky.
All rights reserved. Posted by kind permission of the poet.
(at St. Mary’s) may the tide that is entering even now the lip of our…
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Where I’m from, people still wave to each other, and if someone doesn’t, you might…
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We invite you to experience six blessings in this short, meditative video from Brother David: