Soft tapping on the roof made me pause;
After weeks of no rain, there’s a light shower.
This afternoon the dust flew everywhere
As I tried to tackle the piles of leaves all over my back yard.
The parched ground was hard,
The leaves dry and brittle.

The growing season has started a new cycle by ending the last one.
It’s as though the Creator asks if I am ready.
And I ready to put aside the old growth,
And wait patiently on the new?
Am I accepting of the dark of winter with the promise of spring?
Am I? Am I?

Tomorrow or the next day, when I go back out to rake,
The leaves will be damp and stuck together,
The wet ground will leave mud on my boots.
I heard an owl hoot, as if to ask,
“Are you ready? Are you? Are you?”

I am ready for change. I am willing to step back into my work.
I will face the next tasks, the next chores without complaint.
For I am alive, and grateful for each new day.

But tonight? Tonight I stood in the rain,
Felt the dampness on my clothes and my hair,
And listened to the rain on bare branches,
The evening wind rustling through the fir tree.
Tonight’s vespers prayers are bent on renewal, on tending my heart,
And staying focused, not distracted.
The promise of hope is there, even now,
And the end of a difficult week.

I look with hope at all the tomorrows I am granted.
I look to the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
I lean in to listen again and be reminded
That it’s one step at a time. Not one season at a time.
Bless the Lord, O my soul.

Blessed be.