When I was an undergrad, I wrote quite a bit of poetry. I haven’t written nearly so much in recent years. When I do write poetry, I tend to like rhyme and meter. The other day, though, this just sort of popped into my head. Thanks for your kind indulgence .

An autumn morning:

Above a mottled gray obscures
The blinding brilliance behind
So mortal eyes may wander upward
In wonder.

The long soft song of the leaves
Now modulates from major greens
To minor golds, oranges, reds,
Crescendoing until their rustling rale
Releases and returns them to the earth.

Then in the open field we walk in wind
That chills, dries, scours and wakens all that live –
Propelling all men to their final end:
The One who has come and shall come again.