Hope


Old spirit, in and beyond me,
keep and extend me. Amid strangers
friends, great trees and big seas breaking,
let love move me. Let me hear the whole music,
see clear, reach deep. Open me to find due words,
that I may shape them to ploughshares of my own making.
After such luck, however late, give me to give to
the oldest dance… Then to good sleep,
and - if it happens - glad waking.

Philip Booth (1925-2007) wrote ten collections of poetry. He was the recipient of Guggenheim, Rockefeller and NEA Fellowships.

Brian Suntken

It’s my sixtieth trip around the sun this year. I share some wisdom, some photography, some poetry and prayers for the journey ahead.

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Learning the Bicycle

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Sabbath Poem VII