December Benediction

I took a walk today as the sun began to set behind the Caney Mountains.  It has been warm the last few days.  Too warm for this time of year.  We should be wearing coats and mittens, shielding ourselves from the north wind.  After all, it is December.  The final note of the fading year.

Thanksgiving has come and gone.  Christmas is fast approaching.  But then, there is this space of time between these two events.  I strolled at a leisurely pace. There was no hurry in me.

Light wind.  Fading light.  A time to not think at all.  No plans.  No urgency to make a decision.

Just time, and sky, and breeze, and silence.

It is so very quiet up here on my hill this time of year.  The birds are gone.  All the busy life around me has stopped its frantic pace.  Peacefulness.  I can almost hear the earth breathing a sigh of relief.  

I join in.  Smiling, I feel a certain connection with this eternal design.

Long before I lived here.  Long before anyone tilled this field or built this barn.  Long ago, there was a time when the wind blew gently as it does now.  I am just a part of this long history.  

December, the last month of twelve.  The other eleven are gone.  Complete.  Done.  There is no going back.  And what does December say to me? With a soft whisper, it tells the tale that no other time can repeat.  It breathes in measured cadence a blessing. A benediction. A closing note.  The final stanza of the song.  Amen, it says.  So be it, it says.  And it is enough.