Baptismal prayer
This is the season when trees
Stand naked, stamped in sharp
Shadow on still-green grass.
This is the time between living
And dying.
Grant me an inquiring and
Discerning heart,
This is the human season now;
The air turns cold, and, daily,
Darker. Turkeys strut, circling,
Raw necks extended. Who
Knows what comes next.
The courage to will and
To persevere,
A threshold time between hope
And despair. A thousand joys,
A thousand sorrows. There is no
Escape from death. There is no
Escape from life.
The spirit to know and
To love you,
The last leaf lingers on the asters.
Suet hangs from the redbud tree.
This is the season when dusk comes
Early. Wind sings in the willows.
The night stars gather.
And the gift of joy and wonder
In all your works.
