And now, again, it’s Labour Day,
no more wearing of white;
straw hats must be put away
for they are far too light
for autumn’s russet gravity,
the cooler, shorter days.
The hammock’s sweet concavity
in which we’d pause to praise
God’s bright-hued summer gifts
is with care rolled and stored,
because our paradigms must shift
and we must make fresh accord
with the falling leaves and rain,
and trust that summer comes again.
I’d almost forgotten that it was Labor Day this year. Usually, we host a large work retreat at the camp this weekend where we get all the firewood for the year, do work and cleaning projects, and button down the camp for winter. It is very quiet this year.
We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you are happy with it.Ok
And now, again, it’s Labour Day,
no more wearing of white;
straw hats must be put away
for they are far too light
for autumn’s russet gravity,
the cooler, shorter days.
The hammock’s sweet concavity
in which we’d pause to praise
God’s bright-hued summer gifts
is with care rolled and stored,
because our paradigms must shift
and we must make fresh accord
with the falling leaves and rain,
and trust that summer comes again.
I’d almost forgotten that it was Labor Day this year. Usually, we host a large work retreat at the camp this weekend where we get all the firewood for the year, do work and cleaning projects, and button down the camp for winter. It is very quiet this year.