Haec Dies
From bits and bobs of today's readings:
This day the Lord has made with its pale sun, unseasonable chill, the ragged scudding clouds by sharp winds flayed to let the shaft-light spill as honey from the comb drips off the bitten end of heaven’s bread to sweeten this dour spectacle of home and make me lift my head. Let us rejoice in it, as difficult as that may be to do— the news all bad, and head about to split, yet for all that, it’s true: This inhospitable and gloomy day is singing even so, “Of the kindness of the Lord the earth is full.” May we reply, “We know.”
As an old-fashioned poetry lover, I find exceptional pleasure in reading poems like this. It’s great imagery paired with superb rhythm; every syllable seems just meant to be. I’m so thankful that there are poets alive today still using the English language in this way.