Thanks to Carmen Ward & Sara Craven for bringing our attention to this poem.
~ GTEC Reader Editor
Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.
Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;
though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there’s left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn’t cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it’s all we have, and it’s never enough.
~ Barbara Crooker
Barbara Crooker a poet from Pennsylvania, USA and is the recipient of the 2007 Pen and Brush Poetry Prize, the 2004 WB Yeats Society of New York Award, and the 2003 Thomas Merton Poetry of the Sacred Award.
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