BY BROTHER RICHARD OFM

Last night,

as we

slept,

the first flakes

fell;

unseen as angels.

In darkness

we rose,

noticing the

new nip

at sandaled

toes,

the Autumnal air

now

waking us

with

first tender

touch

of Winter’s sharp

edge.

Kindling candles

we sat in

stillness,

breathing presence

until,

looming out

of

first light,

the carrot cake

red

brackened hills

around

us

revealed

their

cold caster sugar

frosting

and

summoned us to

praise.

This evening

as

dusk descended

we gathered,

again

and

as always,

settling into

choir

like crows

crowding close

upon the

bare branches

outside;

our

breath and

being

becoming

one

until

cawing mind

quiets,

and we

friars,

faith feathered

and

settling

into stillness,

like Crow’s old

black robe,

fade

into

Divine dark

once

again.