NeuroDivine

Poetry & Saints | St Michael and All Angels | 29 September 2026

When autumn mists drift from the hills,
And bracken flames with gold,
Saint Michael leads the hosts of light,
As prophets long foretold.

Above the lakes and winding streams,
Where mountain shadows fall,
God's angels guard the paths we tread,
And heed his quiet call.

Blackberries darken in the hedge,
Before the evening's breath;
We gather them while yet we may,
Before the spoil of death.

Old tales declare this final day
Must end the harvest sweet;
Lest evil mar the fruit with spite,
And cast it at our feet.

Yet more than berries from the thorn
Our hearts are called to bring;
The fruits of mercy, truth, and grace
Before the heavenly King.

Through Slieve Bloom's heights and Shannon's plains,
By Barrow's silver flow,
The angels travel at God's word
Wherever we may go.

Saint Michael, captain of the host,
Defend us in the fight;
When fear and darkness cloud the way,
Surround us with God's light.

All praise to God whose angels serve
Across the earth and sky;
Until we join their endless song
Before his throne on high.

Reflection

When autumn arrives across our hills and fields, the blackberry hedge becomes a quiet altar.

To stand before a tangle of brambles in late September is to enter a sensory sanctuary. We notice the sharp prickle of the thorns alongside the soft dark weight of the ripe fruit. We see how the sweetest berries often grow just out of reach, nestled in the shadows, waiting for patient hands. In Irish tradition, Michaelmas marks the cutoff—the final boundary of the harvest, reminding us that every season has its sacred limit, and every good gift has its time.

For many of us, God often speaks through this kind of rich, tangible detail. Faith is not just an abstract idea; it is grounded in the texture of the leaf, the stain of juice on the fingertips, the rhythm of gathering, and the quiet beauty of the landscape around us.

The thorns remind us that life brings sharp edges, anxieties, and hidden fears. Yet, right alongside the thorn, God provides sweet nourishment. Saint Michael’s feast reminds us that light surrounds us even when dark shadows gather, and that God’s angels guard every winding path we tread.

As we gather the final fruits of the hedge, we are invited to bring our own harvest before the heavenly King—not perfection, but the simple, sweet fruits of mercy, truth, and grace.

A Prayer for Michaelmas

Lord of the harvest and creator of the hills,

Thank you for the quiet beauty of this season and the abundance of your earth.

When our paths feel tangled with thorns or shadowed by fear,

Surround us with your light and send your angels to guard our steps.

Help us to bring forth the fruits of mercy, truth, and grace in all we do.

Amen.