Doves count to three in the hemlocks
With the ballgame on the radio
We move closer to the fire as the stars uncover.
Bless this fresh-cut yard and this old house,
Its creaking posts and beams hewn from this hill,
Bless this peaceful pooling night,
Bless beside me this young man
Who sometimes thinks like me
Shivering in the chill light,
Both of us believing in happiness
In this magical kingdom of home
Where we stay to be human and grateful.
–inspired by a Philip Schultz poem.
