The Fall

 

The falling leaves
From sun spent trees
Shed their grace
Down to the ground
Falling

Sweeping

Twirlings and twistings
All around
To the bevy
Of vegetation’s fertile
Bearing seedlings

 

Basking upon the earth’s floor

Awaiting the crisp blanketing
Of Fall’s brisk refrain
Cascading flutter-flies
Under the skies
Bright in the sunlight
Breathing in the beauteous bounty

 

 To alight

In the feathery show pieces

Dancing in the wind beckoning

Them leave
Their pinnacle
And embrace
The face hidden
On the surfaced wellspring

The falling leaves

Sometimes
Drift about
As a song
For a lady

Planted on the banks of the river

Sounding melancholy and kinda blue

They sail too

On wings of a dove
Woven in coats of the many colors

 

 Of the seasonal hue

Rustic browns and tainted tans
Morning yellows and sunset golds
Bold reds and pumpkin oranges
Peak-a-boo pinks

Shadowing violet speckled in-laids
With olive and lemon peels
Changing in the brush
Sitting among the greens

 

Falling through

Dressed pines

And times

Of pasts and comings
Of the harvest
From summer’s crossing over
To the other side

 

Like the rushing tides

Who stem
From the deep
To speak
To the story
Of the Master in His glory
Painting the day
From the Kingdom Hall
This glorious season
We call
The Fall.



“Let Your work (the signs of Your power)

Be revealed in Your servants,

And Your glorious majesty
To their children.
And let the beauty and delighfulness and favor
Of the Lord our God be upon us;
Confirm and establish the work of our hands –
Yes! The work of our hands,
Confirm and establish it.” Ps. 90:16-1

The Lady of Tishri

She comes forth
With the cool breeze
Whistling about her dress
Frocked in vibrant crimsons and oranges,
Vivid yellows and browns in the greens
To shade the day
Falling
In commemoration of Lady Tishri’s gloried advent

She rallies up her gales
Where the river boat hails
To ride on the sultry sea
With her captain’s fancy
Planted and rooted in the trunk of her tree
Calling Out the dimness of light
Passing on to night

The Lady rests her wings
Under the shadows of the sun and moon
Her canvas bearing
The supple paints layered
Within the folds of her skirt
By the dutifully placed brush strokes
To bespeak the expression of
Dawn to dusk
Lolling
On the meadow
In the glow of sunrise and sunset

To capture the lure
Of the sun’s golden delicious fruits
For delightful in-gatherings
In preparation to partake of the lush banquet
Ushered into the season
Of change
From face
To face
Installing
Another time and place

When Summer blossoms
Turn over
A new leaf
Written in the wind
As
The radiant spell
Of Jubilee
Is cast upon the sea
Somersaulting
In the enchanting autumn charm
Of the Lady of Tishri

( Tishri is the Hebrew for Autumn)