Here, here in the crook of the year,the crux and fix and flux of the yearlight falls long across and dear.Here in the ruck and dreck of the yearWe glean and gather grace and gear,here, here in the crook of the year.Here is the neckbone of the year,its knuckle sharp, its blade sheer,where light falls long across and dear.Hear the matins of the year,the chant of praise and marrow fear,here, here in the crook of the year.Cheer the vespers of the year,the prayers that rise from tongue to earas light falls long across and dear.Clear your mind as night draws near.Stead your heart and shed no tear.Here, here in the crook of the yearwhere light falls long across and dear.
Year-end lists of books, music and film; interview with Dennis Sanders; Tom Long on desperate prayers.
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