Every fall I notice how the light through the trees takes on unique seasonal glow - as if the turning autumn leaves are glowing from within... I noticed that today for the first time this season. So, here's my latest version of a prayer I've posted in years past...
On these fine fall days, Lord,
there's mystery
in the subtle glory shining
through the turning of the leaves
on maples, oaks and aspens...
Old Sol, assuming autumn's angle,
casts a warm October spell
through branches brushed to beauty
on leaves afire in hues and shades
no summer's green can match...
The light comes down from heaven, yes,
but the leaves I see, with my own eyes,
are glowing from within...
In my reverie,
the trees still hold a warmth soaked in
from August's brilliant skies
and only now returning home:
a psalmody of light and color
rising up, a hymn to praise
your glory, grace and gift...
Ambling down fall's arbored roads
I see the glow, not everywhere
but here and
there:
your evergreens a backdrop
for the bittersweet finale
of autumn's fading days...For all of this I'm grateful
and I offer you my praise
for the fire and the glory
of your presence all around,
aglow in falling autmn leavesand deep within my soul...
Protect me, Lord, while I'm awake
keep vigil while I sleep
that awake, I keep the watch with you
and asleep, rest in your peace...
Amen.
Today's song is not a hymn but, in the spirit of the prayer above,
offered as a psalm of praise to God, revealed in nature - not unlike the squirrel in my Pause for Prayer a few days ago...
When Fall Comes to New England
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When Fall comes to New England
The sun slants in so fineAnd the air's so clearYou can almost hear the grapes grow on the vine.
The nights are sharp with starlightAnd the days are cool and cleanAnd in the blue sky overheadThe northern geese fly south insteadAnd leaves are Irish Setter redWhen Fall comes to New England.
When Fall comes to New EnglandAnd the wind blows off the seaSwallows fly in a perfect skyAnd the world was meant to be.
When the acorns line the walkwaysThen winter can't be farFrom yellow leaves a blue jay callsGrandmothers walk out in their shawlsAnd chipmunks run the old stone wallsWhen Fall comes to New England.
The frost is on the pumpkinThe squash is off the vineAnd winter warnings race across the skyThe squirrels are on to somethingAnd they're working overtimeThe foxes blink and stare and so do I.
'Cause when Fall comes to New EnglandOh I can't turn awayFrom fading light on flying wingsAnd late good-byes a robin singsAnd then another thousand thingsWhen Fall comes to New England.
When Fall comes to New England...
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