The Things We Carry into Winter
There comes an hour in the year when daylight loosens its hold and evening draws near without asking to be feared. The trees have no need to explain what they can no longer keep. Beneath them, the earth receives each fallen thing without judgement. We stand at the edge of winter with our arms full: love that still warms us, anger we have carried too long, the names of those we miss, and habits worn smooth by the years. May we take time to know the difference between what gives us shelter and what only weighs us down. May we be gentle with what cannot be put aside simply because we wish it. And as the light grows brief, may we discover that rest is also a way of living… and that we need not carry everything alone.
