The blessing of bounty is a fragile one.
So you reap what was sown,
though the corners are not yours.
Harvest the last of summer's promise,
and live, for a time, only
sheltered by grace.
Look up! Look up!
The lattice-worked heavens
of sun and moon and stars
dapple your harvest
of paper chains and pasta art.
The blessing of bounty is a fragile one.
Harvest the wind, gusty with rain
and the first fruits of cold.
Sit with me for a timeless time,
and feel the earth beneath us.
Let us be sheltered by graceful impermanence.
The blessing of bounty is fragile,
But oh! what a glorious thing!
