photo by author

No sooner did I wax poetic about the crisp fall weather last month than the afternoon temperatures rose into the 80’s every day. We are back in drought territory. It is a lovely time to be a walking, appreciative human being and a stressful time to be a tree. Trees are shedding early with little vibrant color so far. I am enjoying the last slowly vine ripening tomatoes that were also given a final boost. As I sit by the shrinking ponds and the sinking lily pads, I look and hear and smell fall progressing.

Gone to seed

Pods and pinecones

Berries and burrs

Nuts and tufts of wispy

fluff – the urgency of spring

no less the urgency of fall

The laze of summer

The slumber of winter

Love itself has no season

and at the end

all I hope to leave behind.

This fall seems almost unendurably poignant as so many of our valued beliefs and systems have been prematurely forced to go to seed. Living as I do in a continuing care retirement home, dear friends and neighbors are passing in their time. These personal losses on top of global decimation are a lot for my witnessing heart to bear. I am grateful for those in my community both here and outside of Kendal that share their strength of heart with me. Going it alone is not an option.

Yom Kippur was honored with a lovely service enhanced by two Oberlin Conservatory students playing a heart-rending version of the Kol Nidre. I shed tears to share the burden of being human for so many atrocities that we commit as a species. To find atonement- or I as I see it, at-one-ment with the whole of my being, means asking for mercy and forgiveness every step of my path and not just once a year. We each have a role to play in standing for truth, compassion, and justice.

In Catholicism, prayers may be offered many specific times of the day, as in Islam. Compline is the last one before retiring.

Compline Service at Island Pond

Compline service begins.

Insects chirr the plainsong of call and response.

Leaves whisper prayers around the pond.

Planted among the browning lily pads

black and white geese bow their heads

like flowering nuns.

Incense of fall nostalgia permeates the air.

Descending behind the trees

the great orb drops a chilly shroud of evening.

Bless and preserve us, Amen.

I head home and turn on the lights.

I send this taste of peace

to those who have no safe place to sleep tonight

and to those who wake up hoping

to survive another day of war.