This is the day
that the lord has made.
And he called it good.
And it is.
Granted, it’s wet, cold and the wind blows until it seems as if i need a skin.
But I am told ‘it’s what’s inside that counts’
and inside is my hearth, my roaring flame like an honest lion
and my mug of steam.
The results of poor men’s toils,
from foreign soils.
I bow to you, oh lord,
in your unquestionable wisdom.
But only because I can’t stand up.