The trees are swaying and dipping, murmuring and hollering,
dropping and dripping; some prostrate themselves, as though
this were the Holy Spirit giving voice to their prayers with
sighs too deep for words.
The trees have been set free. They sing.
I am a little afraid of their religious fervour.
I am a little in awe of their holy abandonment.
I envy their prayer.
They have reduced me to a whisper.
I suppose I had imagined the trees
of the field on a summer’s day,
But creation is a […]
As Lent began, we read from the Gospel according to Matthew the advice to, “whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matthew 6:6). Oh, but what about those things that “our Father who is in secret” will see? And what will be their just reward?
There may be a fever of prayerful activity, “raging against the dying of the light,” trying to stave off the coldness to come. They are symptoms of the southerning sun. Soon, some of us know, our prayers will be those of sleepwalkers, slow to respond to the promptings and proddings of the Spirit, fumbling and in danger of falling.