We do not stand alone at the open door
To watch the earth unfurl to the sun's plow,
But share the prophecy of the harvest's store
In the frail petals uncurling on the bough,
The countdown of the scents on the warm wind's way;
The lilacs, then the Madonna lilies' musk:
The mowing and the stacking of the hay.
We are not alone in the early autumn dusk.
Nor, closing out the snow, at the fireside,
Tracing black branches on the whitened mound;
Nor when we pull the bolt and open wide
On spring again, in the encircling round.
As the earth, in orbit, is companioned by the sun,
So man, in orbit, is companioned by the One.
