Praise for the brown thrasher
who by its nature
knows what to do with a host of dead leaves
after a killing freeze:
Thrash them, for tasty bugs.
Praise for the prophet, who left us this conversation:
Jeremiah: Why is my pain everlasting and my blow grievous, resistant to healing? You have surely been to me a dried-up spring, waters not to be trusted.
Adonai: If you turn back, I will bring you back, before Me you shall stand.
And if you bring out what is precious from trash, you shall be as My mouth.