ii  Gloria

Praise the wet snow
        falling early.
Praise the shadow
        my neighbor’s chimney casts on the tile roof
even this gray October day that should, they say,
have been golden.
                Praise
the invisible sun burning beyond
     the white cold sky, giving us 
light and the chimney’s shadow. 
Praise
god or the gods, the unknown, 
that which imagined us, which stays 
our hand, 
our murderous hand,
                   and gives us
still,
in the shadow of death,
            our daily life,
            and the dream still 
of goodwill, of peace on earth. 
Praise
flow and change, night and 
the pulse of day.