pandemic

Glory be to God for autumn things!
For the green world changing colour;
golden, crimson, amber, rust.
For baskets of glorious apples:
delicious, ambrosia, russet, spy.
For the grain tumbling out of the combine,
the pumpkins filling the field,
for round bales of hay weighing down wagons.
And then the crisp fall breezes bringing clouds
heavy with rain, hinting of snows to come.
We come with thanksgiving for the rich blessing of the harvest,
and the work of the farmers who produced it.
God, this is a year where we take nothing for granted;