The trees are weeping
Great arid tears
Of scarlet, gold, and flame—
Mourning winter’s onset
And doubting spring will come again.
Autumns sings in a minor key, bagpipes droning the slave trader's hymn. Loss, surrender, relinquishment thrum beneath the glory of the turning leaves, the crisp cool air, the gentler light.
Even as tree limbs release their grip on summer's glory and exhalations of wind carry it down, down, down to the earth, farmers gather in their harvests, the golden glory-fruit of so many seeds of hope buried in soil nourished by the weeping of the trees.
"I assure you: Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains by itself. But if it dies, it produces a large crop" (John 12:24, HCSB).
So beautiful. I read it through several times. Your word choices are awesome. Hope you're having a good week!ReplyDelete
wow beautiful piece...love me some bagpipes...almost as muchas autumn...marvelous imagery...the harvest is here...ReplyDelete
Simply breathtaking imagery.ReplyDelete
Autumn is such a melancholy time for me, perhaps because I'm in the autumn of my life right now. So thankful for the hope of resurrection to cling to while heading into winter. Thanks so much for your kind comments to me. They bless.ReplyDelete
release their grip on summer's glory and exhalations of wind carry it...ReplyDelete
Oh, such beautiful poetry/prose, and so timely for me, release my grip, trust the wind to carry. Thank you for posting today! God bless you.
This is gorgeous. "Autumn sings in a minor key..." Beautiful promise of hope.ReplyDelete
Such beautiful imagery...so brilliantly written...so heart-fully felt. "Loss, surrender, relinquishment thrum beneath the glory of turning leaves." This sings to my heart...I am standing in this exact place.ReplyDelete
Perhaps it is the season -- the visual cues through God speaks so readily -- but I have been entertaining these thoughts more and more -- what does it mean to die to self and be reborn? To live for Jesus fully and completely in the new growth?ReplyDelete
The first lines just about made me weep. So beautiful. All of it is, really. What thoughts to ponder this fall day. Thank you.ReplyDelete
wow. i've rarely read such a beautiful poem about autumn... really , truly, beautiful.ReplyDelete
Wow. Such a beautiful description of the season!ReplyDelete
so beautiful.. although the season is slowly changing around here, I for a moment felt I was surrounded by beautiful changing leaves and talking trees. Thank you.ReplyDelete
This is so beautiful, makes me want to stand under those weeping trees and catch their tears. I have Someone who catches mine, you know:).ReplyDelete
I read this earlier in the week and did not have time to comment...what beautiful imagery you've captured here. And I love that on the day you were writing about the trees weeping, I was writing about the trees bleeding fiery hope. Both are true and beautiful in their own way. There is the dying and the loss, and the grieving that comes with it, but there is the hope of transformation, rebirth, life made new again--a hope that only matters *because* of the dying that comes first. Thank you for writing. Your word choice here is exquisite.ReplyDelete
@crumbles - Thank you, kind friends. Your words make me blush. Courtney, I also noticed the way our posts dovetailed; it's a delight when such things happen. Misty, the leaves have not begun to change here either. The first few lines were written several years ago, and I was remembering them and trying to process the melancholy feeling Nancy, Sherrie, and Jen noted.ReplyDelete
I wish I were able to reply individually to each of you, but offline life has been busy this week and beckons now. Please do know your names are lifted up to God today. May He pour into your hearts the hope and confidence that every tear will bring forth fruit far exceeding the sorrow.