Autumn practically writes her own story

Every leaf a page unto itself. 

Let the writing flow as the leaves let go  

Each one a spinning allegory. 

No writer’s block among the colored trees 

Tales of glory whispered in the wind.

Once proffering shade to every passerby 

Now heaving sighs of grief on autumn eves.

One by one trees drop their tools of trade

Receiving notice of their final days. 

Once fluttering high with purpose and with pride

Now detached as the message is conveyed.

Standing naked ‘gainst the darkening sky

Nothing covering their rough and tired limbs. 

Are they still as needed and desired  

Before their future lives identified?

Autumn has written her own story

Each fallen leaf a torn page from the book.

Autumn’s tale is a rite of passage taken.

Winter comes to claim her territory.

 

Autumn wrote her book; spring wrote the sequel. 

With sweeping strokes of hope she penned the words,

“Behold, in fallen leaves…the promised spring. 

It’s God’s kindness for all people!”  

~ Janet F. Mueller 

Paintings by Deana Harvey

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