Each day I wake to dim light
spreading slowly, sending away
darkness, spreading out the land.

Here it is! I say to myself -
the new day not yet broken!
Hope swells in waves.

Then, as the sun shines
or the rain pours and the cold,
comes news of the world

washing over me, bending
my wishing spirit, my heart's desire,
my weary and forsaking hope.

What to do but work and pray?
One hand holding the sacred earth
the other the splendorous sky.

Another night begins - autumn eve
writing under lamplight.
Bent but not broken, my hope.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Portland, Oregon - October 8, 2021