{"id":238,"date":"2020-09-23T15:47:05","date_gmt":"2020-09-23T19:47:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hhhinfo.com\/worship\/?p=238"},"modified":"2020-09-23T15:48:07","modified_gmt":"2020-09-23T19:48:07","slug":"238-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hhhinfo.com\/worship\/238-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Daily Reflection 9-21-20"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The first nights that bring frost always sober me up somehow.  The cold nights, the need for sweaters and sweatshirts, the falling leaves, and the shiny glimmer of frost on the fields are indicative of our beloved New England Fall. But we are human and generally speaking we don\u2019t love change and every fall we must get ready for the leaves to fall and a pulling in and browning of all things green\u2026.. such loss that our hearts ache. Fires and friends and good work will keep our souls warm and give us courage for the days ahead. But we are know that winter is coming, creation tells us that death is around the corner and we must make the best of our short time here on this planet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Be good to each other.
Be good for your neighbor.
Be good for the world.
Be good to yourself.
It is needed.
You are needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A poem for your musing:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Sunset of the City<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

BY GWENDOLYN BROOKS<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love.
My daughters and sons have put me away with marbles and dolls,
Are gone from the house.
My husband and lovers are pleasant or somewhat polite
And night is night.

It is a real chill out,
The genuine thing.
I am not deceived,
I do not think it is still summer
Because sun stays and birds continue to sing.

It is summer-gone that I see, it is summer-gone.
The sweet flowers in drying and dying down,
The grasses forgetting their blaze and consenting to brown.

It is a real chill out. The fall crisp comes.
I am aware there is winter to heed.
There is no warm house
That is fitted with my need.
I am cold in this cold house this house
Whose washed echoes are tremulous down lost halls.
I am a woman, and dusty, standing among new affairs.
I am a woman who hurries through her prayers.

Tin intimations of a quiet core to be my
Desert and my dear relief
Come: there shall be such islanding from grief,
And small communion with the master shore.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Blessings on your day,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Michelle<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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