(A new poem based on and inspired my introduction to yesterday’s sermon.)

it’s all gift
     old tree stump beside the path covered over with green moss sprouts new spruce seedlings of deeper green from its top
     oaks and maples and birches along the road dappled in ochre and magenta and burnt orange offer a last lingering visual treat before long months of unrelenting gray
     fire in the hearth sparks and crackles taking the edge off the chill and intimating deep mysteries of the universe in its dancing flames

it’s all gift
     eagle glides on still wings surveying its edgeless domain
     seal soars for a magical moment above the waves before plunging back into the sea
     young girl soars on a backyard swing freed from ground and gravity

it’s all gift
     young Misty speaks her Name to crawdads and crows and creeks and they speak their Names to her and the world is suddenly enlarged and I don’t want the novel to end
     young Sierra’s fingers dance fantastically over the strings of her mandolin and I don’t want the music to end
     old man climbs down the tawny scree slope nine miles and three summits in and I don’t want the hike to end

it’s all gift
     this earth, this life, my every breath