St. Francis in the Foothills

Praise wet snow falling early,  

Praise the shadow  

my neighbor's chimney casts on the tile roof

even this gray October day that should, they say,  

have been golden.  

Praise the invisible sun  

burning beyond the white cold sky,  

giving us light and the chimney's shadow.  

Praise god or the 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.  

 

                                                              - Denise Levertov