| Nunc Dimittis (A Meditation)
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Kneeling at the season's briars I tell a rosary of thorns: Sad chanting in the grass Foretells a beetle's death, A cricket mourns. Help celebrate this day with me With host of seed and morning dew, Leaves that shaped the summer's grief Will weave a pall the trees bestrew. Attend me while I dumbly serve A ministry among the weeds, And like a breeze commune with me While I pursue my swaying creeds. Let's blend our lives into a hymn To grinding flesh and yielding bone And flowers turned again to bud And hearts become as melting stone. One song, the summer's only gift: And now depart; the visions melt And frozen aisles of lifeless grass Lead from the shrine where once we knelt. |
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