A Small Circle of Light


Winter births the new season in the

hard contractions of spring snows. A

long labor this year. I have seed in the

ground and have become suspicious of

the birds. The currant is budding, not

the scrub oak, which knows, they say,

when the last snow has fallen. Today, I

have soil to amend and dogs to love, and

a wife to laugh with in the kitchen as we

worry together about our children. The

one in Boston, repositioning the center

of the universe, and one, on the road,

tonight, in Salt Lake City, running down

a dream. This time of life holds its share

of fears and far more promise. The earth

is faithful, and the sky. It is I who gathers

‘neath this small circle of light each

dawning day to read and write and pray

for courage to live through this labor of

placing what I have in the ground, and

into the heart of a new season. Amen.

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