Grace

or Gurney Norman, quoting him

 

The woods is shining this morning.   

Red, gold and green, the leaves   

lie on the ground, or fall,

or hang full of light in the air still.   

Perfect in its rise and in its fall, it takes   

the place it has been coming to forever.   

It has not hastened here, or lagged.   

See how surely it has sought itself,

its roots passing lordly through the earth.   

See how without confusion it is   

all that it is, and how flawless   

its grace is. Running or walking, the way   

is the same. Be still. Be still.

“He moves your bones, and the way is clear.” 

 

-- Wendell Berry