Brother Sun and Sister Moon
Shine on the people of this world.
Let them recall the smells of spring
On cold and drear November days.
And let them hear the baby’s cry,
That all the hounds of hell defy,
And give them all the boons of love –
For love is really all we are –
The tiny gestures – the glance, the word –
That will in memory reoccur.
And deep amidst the fears of night
Bring a holy glimmer of delight.
InnerUrban 