The golden leaves of the Beech tree
Swirl and dance on the wind
Overhead canopies of branches
A tunnel shouting, "It's time to mend"!
There are so many leaves falling
They sparkle upon us like crystal snow,
Without the burden of the wet and cold,
They are fuel and evidence of all you know.
The crimson of the Japanese Maple
Whisper of Christ's blood shed,
Do you no longer remember
The day when your soul to Him fled?
The red-stained wounds still visible
Upon His precious feet and hands,
Spin in color around you now,
Beneath them now you stand.
The deeper evergreen of pine needles,
Shaken free in fall's cooling breeze,
Meant to last through winter's chill,
Fall now with grace and ease.
It's time to end all this bitterness,
Time those broken ties to mend,
Before winter claims it's own time,
When temporary finds it's end.
The burnt orange of the White Oak Tree,
Interacts with you, leaves and Earth,
They sing out, "The Spring will come"!
When nature again will give birth.
Right now though fall fully arrives
Echoed through the dance of the leaves,
Beginning preparation for winter's nap
For Nature and her seasons still believe.