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.