So it begins…
Another Lent has come
With its demands of piety, privation,
Awake before the spinning world
Turns my face to the cheery sun
You summon me from rest
To this, a consecrated concentration
That rests, in its own way,
My whirling mind.
“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,”
You said so long ago,
That those who heard
(And those who heard from them),
That even I
Might lay aside tomorrow’s cares and ills
To live entirely in today.
Such a facile phrase!
Yet has there ever been
A task more trying?
So here before dawn’s rosy fingers
Stretch across the hills
I tune my thoughts,
Settle my spirit.
Let the disquiet and distractions
Kindle with the leaves of last year’s palms
And fill this solemn season
With ashes of anxiety
All aglow with grace.