We pray for all
who are exposed
to winter’s cold:
people who clean the streets
people who provide essential services
people who travel
people who go to work
people who are unhoused.
Watch over all your children, God.
Move us to work for a world
where all your children
have shelter from the storms
and places and clothing to keep them warm.
We pray in the name of Jesus,
who had no place to lay his head. Amen.
Filed under Current Events, Prayer
13 April 2013. I am back in Louisville for meetings. Apparently something happened to the seasons while I was gone. Isn’t winter a while away?
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Louisville
Again
in the night, the fire went out.
Devoid of pity, winter
invaded the room,
assaulted my body –
my thin blanket offered little resistance.
Cold chews my knuckles,
gnaws my knees.
The weak sun forces
pale shafts of light,
but no warmth,
through the dirty window.
I faintly see my breath
as I turn my head
to gaze on gray-black ash
within the fireplace.
For a moment, I ponder:
stay put, let go, give up
Then their faces rise before me
laughing, loving faces,
gone forever yet
somehow with me always.
And for their sake,
and perhaps for my own,
I stretch my painful limbs
and force myself from the bed
to shuffle stiffly across the floor,
light the fire,
begin another day,
again.
3 December 2012
SW 208
MDW – SDF
Filed under Poem
Time and again, I would return to the Shire to find that the electricity had gone out. The clocks showed me that. Power seemed somewhat fragile.
Yet two years in a row, when snow and ice sent Louisville into a deep freeze, the Shire provided shelter in the storm for me and served as a warm place of refuge for friends stranded in the city, for friends whose homes, as had many in other parts of the city, had lost power.
See you along the Trail.
Along the Graybeard Trail 