As years pass
and days shrink,
activity multiplies.
Each season
sifts its own joys
and rhythms
but times to pray elude.
A rare space opens –
frays and fragments
and hours are lost
before I’ve noticed
what might have been.
November –
life slows down
and winter pulls
long evenings
round its shoulders,
draws up the day before the fire.
— Christine Rigden
