Praise Song

by Barbara Crooker

Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.
Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;
though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there’s left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn’t cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it’s all we have, and it’s never enough.

From Radiance. Word Press, 2005.

Read this and other poems by Barbara Crooker in Radiance, available for purchase online.

I resonate with the stubborn optimism of this poem, the way the speaker seems to be convincing herself, with the repetition of the word, “praise,” over and over, that there’s still beauty in “what little there’s left” at the end of November, before winter sets in. I can imagine her standing outside and looking around, taking in “the small boats of milkweed pods,” and naming both the “dried weeds” of the meadow, as well as the leaves fallen from “Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,/Sugar Maple.” Her litany of praise suggests that if we too get close enough to notice and name what’s directly around us, we might more easily appreciate our surroundings and find the beauty inherent in even a late fall scene with everything beginning to fade. Yet the final words of this poem so filled with gratitude and appreciation up to this point almost seem to contradict all that’s come before. I sometimes want to argue with her assertion that “it’s never enough,” but I can’t help but feel she’s right: Darkness is often gathering in our world, and the joy our lives can offer us is seldom sustained. Ultimately, perhaps the final phrase reminds us to find and hold onto such moments of gratefulness when they do show up, knowing as we do they can’t last forever.

Invitation for Writing & Reflection: Choose a time when you’re struggling with feelings of gratitude for the world, and for your life as it is right now. Then look around and see what calls to your attention, what you can name. You might begin by repeating the word, “praise,” again and again, letting the anchor of that word pull you forward.

ABOUT THE POET: Barbara Crooker

Barbara Crooker is the author of nine books of poetry, including Les Fauves, The Book of Kells, and Some Glad Morning. Her first book, Radiance, won the 2005 Word Press First Book Award and was finalist for the 2006 Paterson Poetry Prize; Line Dance, her second book, won the 2009 Paterson Award for Excellence in Literature. Crooker is a poetry editor for Italian Americana and has received a number of awards, including the WB Yeats Society of New York Award, the Thomas Merton Poetry of the Sacred Award, and three Pennsylvania Council on the Arts Creative Writing Fellowships. Her work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies.

POETRY SELECTION AND COMMENTARY BY JAMES CREWS

James Crews is the author of four collections of poetry: The Book of What Stays, Telling My Father, Bluebird, and Every Waking Moment. He is also the editor of two anthologies: Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness and Connection and How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope. His poems have appeared in Ploughshares, The New Republic, The New York Times Magazine, The Sun, and have been reprinted in Ted Kooser’s American Life in Poetry and featured on Tracy K. Smith’s podcast, The Slowdown. James teaches at SUNY-Albany and lives with his husband in Vermont.

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