Saturday in the Fifth Week of Lent
O God, I will sing to you a new song;
I will play to you on a ten-stringed lyre.
My progress is arrested by the sight of forsythia bursting forth in jubilant celebration. Now I am on the brink, preparing to enter the dark earthiness of holy time. The impossible yellow of the wild blossoms calls a song to my lips even as I wait for the paradox ahead.