Grace and Peace to you.
The leaves are turning now,
turning the color of the sun, the color of joy,
the color of letting go without regret.
It will turn cold,
and some here in the north will go inside.
But for my desert friends it’s cooler now,
and now they can go out,
while for my friends Down Under, now it’s spring;
the earth is turning green.
Life keeps turning; what for one is toward
for another is away.
The colors of death are also beautiful.
Trees turn in their gradual dance
toward winter, the season of hope,
toward the muted color of branches stripped
and patient, the color of steadfastness
that endures all loss, outlives mere pleasantries,
trusts beyond all passing dark
this autumn’s unseen spring.
My wife and I look for autumn decorations
for our son’s October wedding,
a promise of long love amid falling leaves,
as the sister I love lies beneath a metal tree
dripping chemo through a tube.
The turning leaves, they glow so briefly.
The edge is at the center.
We keep turning.
Every moment gives way.
Whichever way we spin the ball,
the other side is turning, too.
The healing tear, the coveted surrender,
we are bathed in our prayers for one another.
The vow we turn toward, each one of us,
is faithfulness, whichever way we turn,
all of us, in our own places,
turning toward the light.
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