Autumn morning, my eyes are trained
through windows to the shadow
show on tree trunks, crayon box
of colors falling through space
from newly-revealed branches.
Creator comes to mind, how He
carries us, colors us, covers us
with His power, tree-like arms our
strength, raising us Heavenward.
Aware that sap is invisible, a pulsing, sticky
river, carrying nourishment in its wake while
eyes are trained on cottonwood, maple,
Evergreen. I rarely wonder at their
hidden strength, seldom stop to remark,
Would you look at the energy feeding those trees!?
And still it flows.
Likewise we fuss and worry
that God may not be at work
while we grow our leaf-filled days.
Falling we wonder, ‘where is He?
why isn’t He doing something?’
And all the time His constant
reliable reach pushes up and
out, earthborne sap that cannot
be stopped, no matter how our
lives fall out.
thank you, friend. I so appreciate the wisdom you've imparted about polishing my words. Truly–I wrote this with much of your Poetry 101 thoughts in my mind. (You should totally make that a thing–Poetry 101).
“how he carries us, colors us, covers us” and “sticky river” and “sap that cannot / be stopped, no matter how our / lives fall out.” 🙂
Thank you, Sandy. I started with an image and it wrote itself from there (with Laurie Klein's voice in my ear about my fondness for too many gerunds.)
Oh, I like this one… especially “the shadow show,” “sap is invisible, pulsing like a sticky river,” “we grow our leaf-filled days,” and “no matter how our lives fall out.”