Apportion Plentitude

Father above, the sun swept away the hoarfrost and there was a crocus, blooming his heart out--a chalice of gold!

We peeked in the barn door, and there she was, up again, twin lambs at her side!

Help us to see that out of pain comes forth peace; out of storm, calm; out of fierce thunderheads, the blessed rains; out of a rent lion, honey.

If thou dost measure these winds to the sheep that are shorn, what have we to fear?

May new grass flourish the earth around.

May all the babes have milk enough.

And may we have sense enough to apportion plentitude, in thy name, who gives all.


(from the book, The Farmer Gives Thanks; photo by Myriams-Fotos via

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