This is the time of year when in the northern hemisphere we become aware of the dying of vegetation in response to the shortening of the days and the advent of cold weather. Perennials and tender shrubs die back to the ground, and trees divest themselves of their leafy mantle, as nature begins to harden itself against the coming of winter months.
It is also the end of the year in the liturgical calendar of the Church, when we remember the end of things, the time of judgment and fulfillment, the reaping and the harvest. It is a time to look forward in hope in the midst of death and decay to the new life of resurrection that is our heritage. The sun will soon reverse its course and grow ever stronger, as nature in its hidden way prepares for the rebirth of spring.
When Autumn Came
This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,
scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shape
undisturbed by a single moan of protest.
The birds that herald dreams
were exiled from their song,
each voice torn out of its throat.
They dropped into the dust
even before the hunter strung his bow.
Oh, God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodies
with the passion of your resurrection;
make their dead veins flow with blood again.
Give some tree the gift of green again. Let one bird sing.
Faiz Ahmed Faiz
spiritphoto 
Magnificent! Thank you so very much, Ron
Your eye for beauty, the depth of your soul, and your generous heart inspire and nourish me.
The poem with the pictures is perfect.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Barbara
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Thanks, Barbara. It’s always good to hear that my posts are enjoyed. We are very blessed! Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.
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