Many Thursday mornings
I have reason to drive into Boston and back.
Over some weeks' time,
I've watched the trees along my way:
their green leaves turning, painting the road's shoulders
with a last gasp of color and beauty,
then taking a bow in a coppery brown farewell...
One night since last week
-I'm sure it was under the cover of darkness-
the trees quietly conspired and, together,
shook off their faded frocks...
Now they stand bare
against the chill of November's afternoon skies.
They stand still without a hint of a shiver,
their branched arms stretching strong,
braced for the weight of snow and ice,
their December sparkle, their wintry armor...
Would that I were bold enough
to stand so naked before you, my God,
arms stretching strong
reaching for the warmth of your love...
So, I pray, Lord, for a tree's trustAmen.
that spring will come after winter
to melt away the frost
to dew and life and leaves,
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