through windows to the
shadow show on tree trunks,
crayon box colors of Fall
falling through space from now
visible branches.
Creator comes to mind, how He
carries us, colors us, covers us
with His power, the Tree the
strength, raising us Heavenward.
Sap is invisible, pulsing like a
sticky river, nourishment in its wake.
All I see is cottonwood, maple, and rarely
wonder at their strength, never
stop to remark, "would you
look at the energy feeding those trees!?"
Likewise we fuss and worry
that God may not be at work
while we grow our leaf-filled days,
falling we think, and wonder
'where is He? why isn't He
doing something?'
And all the time His constant
reliable reach pushes up and
out, earthborne sap that cannot
be stopped, no matter how our
lives fall out.
Oh, I like this one... especially "the shadow show," "sap is invisible, pulsing like a sticky river," "we grow our leaf-filled days," and "no matter how our lives fall out."
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sandy. I started with an image and it wrote itself from there (with Laurie Klein's voice in my ear about my fondness for too many gerunds.)
Delete"how he carries us, colors us, covers us" and "sticky river" and "sap that cannot / be stopped, no matter how our / lives fall out." :)
ReplyDeletethank you, friend. I so appreciate the wisdom you've imparted about polishing my words. Truly--I wrote this with much of your Poetry 101 thoughts in my mind. (You should totally make that a thing--Poetry 101).
Delete