October nor'easter Marge Piercy Leaves rip from the trees still green as rain scuds off the ocean in broad grey scimitars of water hard as granite pebbles flung in my face. Sometimes my days are torn from the calendar, hardly touched and gone, like leaves too fresh still to fall littering sodden on the bricks. … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 11/05/2015 – If I stand here still stripped and bare
Tag: fall
Praying with Fringes 10/09/2015 – where the final falling off is slow, a slow and radiant happening
In Heaven It Is Always Autumn Elizabeth Spires In heaven it is always autumn. The leaves are always near to falling there but never fall, and pairs of souls out walking heaven's paths no longer feel the weight of years upon them. Safe in heaven's calm, they take each other's arm, the light shining through … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 10/09/2015 – where the final falling off is slow, a slow and radiant happening
Praying with Fringes 10/07/2015 – the grass glitters greenly, freshened by last week’s rain
Leaf Light Barbara Crooker Leaf by leaf, the trees let down their gold; everything returns to dirt: stem, bark, twig. The corn stalks have dried to papery whispers, speak a new language in the wind’s harsh breath. It’s October, when leaf means loss, and bird means go. Today, the grass glitters greenly, freshened by last … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 10/07/2015 – the grass glitters greenly, freshened by last week’s rain
Praying with Fringes 10/08/2015 – this and every crisping day
Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness Mary Oliver Every year we have been witness to it: how the world descends into a rich mash, in order that it may resume. And therefore who would cry out to the petals on the ground to stay, knowing as we must, how the vivacity of what … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 10/08/2015 – this and every crisping day
Praying with Fringes 10/03/2015 – the first strong wind
Late September Song Linda Pastan With the sound of a freight train rushing through the trees, the first strong wind of autumn makes each leaf sing the song of its own execution.
Praying with Fringes 11/07/2014 – though the fall cold surrounds our warm bed
Bedtime Denise Levertov We are a meadow where the bees hum, mind and body are almost one as the fire snaps in the stove and our eyes close, and mouth to mouth, the covers pulled over our shoulders, we drowse as horses drowse afield, in accord; though the fall cold surrounds our warm bed, and … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 11/07/2014 – though the fall cold surrounds our warm bed
Praying with Fringes 11/18/2013 – Stopping Along the Way
Stopping along the Way David Wagoner Heading south toward campus, my car stops suddenly, abruptly, almost on its own. My right foot has found the brake pedal before my eyes can admire a very young possum strolling across our right of way at his personal intersection of human cross-purposes, some of whose breaks are squeaking … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 11/18/2013 – Stopping Along the Way
Praying with Fringes 11/13/2013 – In November
In November Lisel Mueller Outside the house the wind is howling and the trees are creaking horribly. This is an old story with its old beginning, as I lay me down to sleep. But when I wake up, sunlight has taken over the room. You have already made the coffee and the radio brings us … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 11/13/2013 – In November
Praying with Fringes 11/11/2013: Sometimes I am startled out of myself
Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself, Barbara Crooker like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking, flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek across the sky made me think about my life, the places of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief has strung me out to dry. And … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 11/11/2013: Sometimes I am startled out of myself
Praying with Fringes, 11/6/2013: November Night
November Night Adelaide Crapsey Listen. . . With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees And fall.
Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah 