With golden fire
the birch is consumed
as it begins to fall away
to nothing.
The wind has changed
as autumn descends.
What was new
is now dying,
returning to dust,
the air is pungent.
Another season has passed
as time marches on, aging all of creation.
Spirit whispers
"open"
to the seasons unfolding,
as all things are made new.
No comments:
Post a Comment