Litany for Pines

 Happy May Day and Poetry Friday! Elizabeth Steinglass has the Roundup today and offers a great video where she shares poems from her terrific book Soccerverse. Many thanks, Elizabeth!

This past week we had to do a difficult thing; we cut down 10 pine trees very close to our home.

We have lived with these trees for forty-two years, and they were huge when we arrived. This winter strong winds sheared off a thirty-foot top, which, thankfully, did not land on the roof. So it was time to say goodbye with gratitude. 

We spoke this litany to the sentinels who stood with us for so long.

 To Our Pines

To pines who have sheltered us from wind and snow

whose shade has cooled us

we offer gratitude.

And let you go.

For birds’ nests and sighing branches,

for holding swings, wind chimes and clothes lines

we offer gratitude.

And let you go.

To friends who’ve grown older with us,

given us oxygen to breathe,

we offer gratitude.

And let you go.

May your spirits remain close,

your whispers stay in memory,

your legacy bless what shall come anew.

We let you go.

POEM OF GRATITUDE

Welcome to Poetry Friday where you will find a field of poems waiting for you at  Buffy's Blog.
In the spirit of thankfulness, spilling over from last week's gathered blessings, I'm sharing a poem I found at Gratefulness.org. The site offers contemplative tools, instructive videos and some lovely e-cards to mail.

I love how this poem by Patrick Donnelly transports me out of my usual culture of Thanksgiving in which chickpeas and garlic are most likely absent. Our call to prayer is our table grace, not the call of an Imam. 

Donnelly's poem makes me think that preparing a meal is a prayer in itself. May our days of thankfulness extend beyond the annual day we set aside for thanks, and may they include room for traditions different from our own.

On Being Called To Prayer
While Cooking Dinner for Forty

When the heavens and the earth
are snapped away like a painted shade,
and every creature called to account,
please forgive me my head
full of chickpeas, garlic and parsley.
I am in love with the lemon
on the counter, and the warmth
of my brother’s shoulder distracted me
when we stood to pray.

The rest of the poem can be found here.


Patrick Donnelly is the Poet Laureate of Northampton, Massachussetts.
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