Like a Stealth Bomber

like a stealth bomber 

Fall

your arrival is

silent

swift

subtle

wisps of yellows

tease until 

earth gives birth

to intense

yellows

oranges

reds

purples

  

capturing

my heart

holding

my eyes

my focus

my very breath

hostage

humbled

awed

speechless

only my heart

can speak . . .

Praise God!

Thank You Lord!

and then
just as silently
the battle between

fall and winter 
is released
and

frost's icy fingers

pluck
the leaves
one 
by 
one
from majestic
arms

gently laying them

at our feet

waiting for their blanket

of the first snow

For the Beauty of the Earth . . .

For the beauty of the earth . . .

Sugar Maple

Aspen

Green Ash

Autumn Purple Ash

Autumn Purple Ash

 for the glory of the skies . . . 

      

. . . Lord of all, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise . . .

 

Memories, Pressed Between the Pages

today
the house and
outside temps
were one and the same
yet
I refused to bow 
to the air conditioner
knowing
the house will cool
as evening falls
it is September 26th
after all!

tonight
we sat
on the patio
in the dark
the breeze
cooling us
cooling the house

in the dark
in the breeze
memory pages
flutter back
to the early 1950's

dog-eared
childhood
memory pages
of
sitting on the porch
of my childhood house
in the dark
waiting for the house to cool
so we could sleep

and as we waited
sweet, sweet memories
of my dad
playing his guitar
singing
humming
and
the cicadas singing
in harmony
both songs
carried by the breeze

into
peaceful
sweet
sleep

memories,
pressed between the pages
of my mind
and
heart