Sunday, October 23, 2016


The morning stretches coldly
an earth aching for tenderness
the sky reaching away
and even the birds are hidden
silently accepting the autumn's advance

After all that passion
how quickly the leaves fall from the trees
as grace falling from grace
the sudden surrender to the change
an adherence to the present

The tree says, 'Do you even know my name?'
And you realise your own stupor
in love with its beauty
yet without enquiry
Communion with no question

I shall be as the tree
and let go of my covering
All that I was has no use
All that matters is to be
this conduit between earth and sky

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