Another stab at Psalm 72, untitled

the name of the lord
     will endure as the sun
will rise like the moon
     through all generations

his rain falls alike
     on the wheat and the thistle
his scythe takes alike
     the
grain and the weeds

after a loss
     I have walked long in silence
I have walked long in silence
     scuffing my shoes

the rain comes in August
     while hay is still sweetening
a sweetness of rot
     from the cut feathered fields

and always his name
     like dew in the morning
oh pitiless comfort --
     I am done with this singing