Friday, October 13, 2006

ON THE BRINK OF AUTUMN

I wrote this poem a few seasons ago. It captures some of my passion for this season. I suppose at the beginning of every new season I exclaim "this is the best season of the year!" And as that season reaches its fullness and begins to wane, I'm ready for the next one to emerge. But autumn has got to be my favorite season, especially when in the Midwest it lingers long, pushing winter's start all the way back into the middle of December.

On the brink of autumn,
A hint of chill in the air,
The sun’s setting sooner,
In a few days we’ll be there

Where green turns to golden
And reapers harvest the yield,
Where dry leaves are falling
And flocking fowl arc the fields.

Then we’ll don our jackets
And brace ourselves for the wind
That rustles through branches
And billows our souls again.

Do not shrink back from fall;
Embrace this gilded season
As a grace that descends;
A gift to all from heaven.

It’s time for returning,
For in-bringing and burning,
For heart walks in deep woods,
For distilling, discerning.

What’s muddled becomes clear
And all chaff is left exposed
As autumn’s sun glows bright
And a harvest moon shines cold.

We may shed pretenses
And travel a lighter way
Our hearts as crisp as leaves
That lift and then sail away.

As we are being turned,
Turn—facing all the changes,
The falling, the cooling,
And the encroaching darkness.

Lean into the season
Lest it overtake your way.
Let your soul be opened;
Relish the gift of today.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous10:43 PM

    I enjoy your blog - I peer in often. Thanks.

    ReplyDelete

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