Hymns

 August 31, 2021

A notebook has been sitting on my desk for days. It contains a poem I roughed out at the riverside, that I was anxious (but apparently not THAT anxious) to finish. Opened it up, ready to begin. It was awful. Closed the notebook.

While it was still dark I rose and offered a revision for the Parish Profile and call for a new Dean, which as they stood sounded like an eager high school girl’s citizenship essay. 

I put out shredded documents as a mulch on the hibiscus. The turkeys love that, come all the way across the lawn to shit just there. 

Hearing this, joyfully, in my head:

I will bow and be simple

I will bow and be free.

I will bow and be humble

be thou like the willow tree.

I will bow, this is my token

I will wear the easy yoke

I will bend and not be broken

with my back against the rock. 

Thinking of the time when I was singing in the choir at the Disciples Church in Hiram, and sang “Be Thou My Vision” for the first time. 

Devotion is higher than wisdom.

Devotion is higher than wisdom.

Maud returns to her old ways, no longer hissing from the hurt in her back legs. However long this blessing lasts, I send up my little fountain of praise. 

Had a $1500 charge on a credit card from a hotel in Haiti.