It’s nearing the end of autumn.
I went outside and contracted
Into my chair. The bite of winter’s
First chill broke the apple’s seal.
Death seems to be everywhere.
From the fallen leaves who’ve
Lost their lively colors, to the
Yellowing grass, stiff and brittle.
The claws of the trees lurch
And sway back and forth.
Whispering, with the wind:
“Life is a vapor.” Then, just before
The sun went to rest, the clouds
Parted for a final burst of warmth.
It broke through the icy veil, tearing
It in two—from top to bottom.
The remaining leaves mustered
A final parade of radiant glory.
The swaying claws of the trees
Appear now, only to be quivering.
I will never again underestimate
The power of unexpected light
And the warmth of timely grace.
Just imagine what dawn will bring.