My path is strewn with beauty,
red and orange, yellow, green,
leaves ribbed or smooth,
leaves living still, or dead,
at rest or falling through the light,
or turned by wind around and round,
ochre, saffron, bright or black and mottled,
released into the wind, the ground, the past,
leaves lobed or whorled or undulate,
leaves rife with bugs and shades and hues,
of blood, maroon, and wheat and honey,
amber and the sun and moon and flames
of love and life and what it is to thrive,
leaves dry or rotting, and leaves glazed
by rain, surrendered to the earth until
they’re raised again in something green,
alive, beyond what we can see,
but now still brown and plain or blazing bright,
the hues of pomegranate, lemon, hues of fruit,
now working down into the root, the dark:
the fire of death, the spark of life, the art
of autumn’s sweet release, the art of peace.
I walk like Autumn’s bride in loveliness,
a dress that beckons forth my loveliness.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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