The poem this Sunday is another by Luci Shaw:

Of consolation

It is down
makes
up seem
taller
black
sharpens white
flight
firms earth
underfoot
labor
blesses birth
with
later sleep

After silence
each sound
sings
dull clay
shines the
bright coin
in the pot
lemon
honeys
its sweet sequel
and my dark
distress
shows comfort
to be doubly
heaven-sent.