Tonight is Thanksgiving Eve. How many of us are up late cooking or straightening for guests? All so that tomorrow we can share a feast with friends and family, expressing gratefulness to one another and to God. The day takes effort to create, but really, all the best things do. It is a day for hospitality and hope, where one can imagine that anyone could knock at the door and find food enough. We give thanks for an abundance of love, peace, and a generosity of spirit.
Posting a poem on Wednesday nights is part of my Ba&Bu rhythm. It feels all the more appropriate on this quiet night before a lively, chaotic, and comforting day. As we put the final touches on our Thanksgiving feasts, I offer a lovely poem by Christina Rossetti. This is a poem of labor, life, and hope.
Peace to you.
Up-Hill
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labor you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
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