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For weeks now,
I’ve watched the trees along my way,
their green leaves turning,
draping the highway’s shoulders
in a last gasp of color and beauty,
taking my breath away…
And then one night
(I’m sure it was under cover of darkness)
the trees did quietly conspire and begin, together,
to shake off their faded frocks and take a bow
in a copper-shaded fond farewell…
Soon they’ll all stand bare
‘gainst a chilled November sky,
stilled with scarce a shiver,
their branched arms stretching long,
bracing for the weight of ice and snow:
their December sparkle,
their wintry armor…
O, would that I were bold enough
to stand, naked, before my God:
my arms straining, reaching in the cold
for the warmth of winter’s love…
But I’m not so brave and so I pray
to simply trust, as do the trees,
that spring will come again
and make of frost a morning dew
to turn the leaves all green…
Amen.
