Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops
Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,
And I myself on swiftly tilting planet . . .
We visited the nature preserve. The sycamores were shivering, half naked in the wind. My children ran ahead, delighting in every new flower and leaf and bird. I walked behind them. Our yard is full of birds these days. We must be far enough south that somebody else’s birds come here to overwinter. I recognized the goldfinches again a few days ago. I hadn’t seen them since late summer.
This year I am grateful for a thousand little gifts of grace.… Read more