Take a walk with me
down to the stream.
It’s a cold, clear day.
Frost underfoot.
Tonight there will be stars:
approaching home, we’ll crane our necks
to count them, while billions of years
whoosh past and next-door’s cat
creeps over the shed.
For now, it’s the stream
we’re seeing through: billions of drops
absolved of their differences,
woven into one, a rippling
pathway between two fields.
Kneel down with me,
and take these cares we’ve nurtured
all the year in hand:
our meek and jumbled offerings,
our unsaid sorries, our pains.
Let the cold, clear water
stun you into wonder
as it carries them away.
There is time to do this
at the closing of the year
on a cold, clear day.
And time to count the stars
on a cold, clear night:
a star for everyone on earth.
