How I Would Paint Happiness Lisel Mueller Something sudden, a windfall, a meteor shower. No -- a flowering tree releasing all its blossoms at once, and the one standing beneath it unexpectedly robed in bloom, transformed into a stranger too beautiful to touch from "Imaginary Paintings"
Trees W.S. Merwin I am looking at trees they may be one of the things I will miss most from the earth though many of the ones I have seen already I cannot remember and though I seldom embrace the ones I see and have never been able to speak with one I listen to … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 10/23/2016 – their names have never touched them
A Dark Thing Inside the Day Linda Gregg So many want to be lifted by song and dancing, and this morning it is easy to understand. I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden in the almond trees, the almonds still green and thriving in the foliage. Up the street, a man is hammering … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 06/08/16 – Everything desirable is here already in abundance
A Short Testament Anne Porter Whatever harm I may have done In all my life in all your wide creation If I cannot repair it I beg you to repair it, And then there are all the wounded The poor the deaf the lonely and the old Whom I have roughly dismissed As if I … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 02/04/16 – And all your unimaginable promises
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 11/06/2015 – They turn to gold for a brief while, then lose it all each November
Sabbaths 2001, VI Wendell Berry Sit and be still until in the time of no rain you hear beneath the dry wind's commotion in the trees the sound of flowing water among the rocks, a stream unheard before, and you are where breathing is prayer.
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
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
Trees W.S. Merwin I am looking at trees they may be one of the things I will miss most from the earth though many of the ones I have seen already I cannot remember and though I seldom embrace the ones I see and have never been able to speak with one I listen to … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 10/05/2015 – one of the things I will miss most from the earth
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.