Great Creator, in our land

the seasons are turning

and we praise you

for the beech nuts crunching under our feet

on woody walks

for the lift in the leaves

as they turn

for the buckshee brambles

jewelling the dew

for the monstrous midgies

as they fall from feasting.

In the towns

the lights come on

yellow pooling on pavements

the smell of morning coolness

of bakeries and breweries

a yeasty sweetness

from steamy vents.

Ethereal evenings

and autumn sunsets

over spires and cities.

Our world.

Your world is wider.

Your embrace envelops

the burgeoning spring

in southern places

the sowers of September seeds

the cultivars of crops

those who wake to welcome the sun

in another sky…

and broader still

into the firmament

where gases swirl and planets collide

and there is an infinity beyond words or pictures

Your universe.

All creation congregates to praise you,

You who hold each one in the palm of a hand,

You who sees and shares

each pain and each pleasure.

All we have is Yours

Our words, our waiting, our wilfulness, our want.

You who together are love,

Creator, Son and Spirit.

Amen.