We bless thee for the bright days,
For the warm sun’s song
And the whisper of the holy rain,
And for the earth where root and seed
Unseen, unbidden, stir with life.
And we are thine, too,
Risen from dirt, breathed into life,
And held in thy hands until to dirt
We shall return.
And all of us, thy creatures bearing
The eternal spark, growing, growing
Toward thy goodness,
Find our life in thee,
Whose mystery binds the wandering stars,
Burgeons in the hills and teeming waters
And rejoices in the winged chorus of the sky.
And so we walk with hallowed steps
Into our garden home,
And thank thee for the life we see again,
This season’s promise and green-hued hope,
And pray for leaf and fruit and flower
And bird and bug and tilling worm
And love to bind us all, and feed us
Heart and soul and tender flesh,
With thy most gracious, grateful spirit.

--Timothy Haut







  Rekindle the light 
    of childlike joy
    within our hearts.
Come as winged spirit
  who wakens us to wonder
    at snowflake and firelight,
  who sings merrily,
    in our stunted, shallow times
    the songs of angels,
  who stirs a tender yearning
    to stoop before the manger
    and gather the child of ages
    into our arms.
Bright Son of God,
  interrupt our busyness so that 
    we might take a glance 
    each day at heaven. 
Sanctify our tears with deep joy
  at the simplest gift
  of your abiding love.
Let that shining joy be our gift
    to the world--
  the candle in this present darkness
  that will never go out.

--Timothy Haut,  2005







In the wakening light

of earliest morning

a flash of red outside the window

promises something beautiful

in these grim days.

It is just a bird seeking food,

but also something to stir the heart.

It is rose and berry and blood,

a wild and feathered miracle

that flies like joy.

We shall hang scarlet bows

on wreath and mantel,

deck our tables with holly,

its red berries winking a secret

to us in our passing.

This red is in us,

the life of life,

the thing that will help us to endure

the darkest winters,

the brightness that binds us

to friend and stranger,

the color of miracles in a gray time

that make us fly like joy.


-- Timothy Haut, December 3, 2014

Summer afternoon,
And then the ruffle of leaves,
A stirring in the grass,
Soft as breath.
Who comes here
On warm wings
To waken me?
So this, too, is holy:
The leaning sunflower
Breaking into bloom,
The tomato wanting to be red,
The sweet, wet earth
Seeded with life,
The bright-winged butterfly,
A fish rising to
The rippled rim of water,
The sigh of cicadas
Passing through this fleeting
Moment of time,
My heart half asleep
And dreaming
That in this troubled, tender world
All creation waits, longs
For me to see the goodness
In this one, precious
Summer afternoon.

--Timothy Haut, 2013