Thanks to John Updike

This poem spoke to me today about how moving into winter does represent a certain sense of loss. He also referred to the beauty of the bones of the garden. Yes, the year is old, but yet we have a reason to say thanks.

November

by John Updike

The striped and shapely
Maple grieves
The loss of her
Departed leaves

The ground is hard
As hard as stone.
The year is old.
The birds are flown.

And yet the world,
Nevertheless,
Displays a certain loveliness--


The beauty of
The bone. Tall God
Must see our souls
This way, and nod.

Give thanks: we do,
Each in his place
Around the table
During grace.