Praise wet snow
Falling early
Praise the shadow
my neighbor's chimney casts on the tile roof
even this grey October day that should, they say,
have been golden.
Praise
the invisible sun burning beyond
the white cloud sky, giving us
light and the chimney's shadow.
Praise
god or gods, the unknown,
that which imagined us, which stays
our hand,
our murderous hand,
and gives us
still,
in the shadow of death,
our daily life,
and the dream still
of goodwill, of peace on earth.
Praise
flow and change, night and
the pulse of day.
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