wheat DSCN4416

I don’t see fields of ripened corn
in my daily life
Reapers belong to yesteryear
And combine harvesters do not cross
my street
Yet I still see signs of harvest
Boxes of apples on garden walls
Neighbours sharing their bounty
with passers by
Lord of the harvest, accept whatever we have to offer as tokens of gratitude for all the good gifts you heap on us.



stick men

People, Lord. Everywhere I go I see people.
Sad people, happy people.
Those who help me,
those who hurt me.
People I need,
people who need me.
All of them your people.
Help me, Lord, to love them with the same love as you show to me;
to respect them for they are all made in your image.