Poem: Leaves

Leaves are whispers of the wind,
A dance in light, so soft, so thin.
Green fingers reach for skies of blue,
Caressing clouds with morning dew.

Each one a painting, finely spun,
A thousand shades beneath the sun.
Emerald veins that pulse with life,
A quiet hymn, a silent strife.

In autumn’s arms, they turn to gold,
A fiery tale in colors bold.
Rustling songs that softly fall,
A carpet woven, one for all.

They hold the secret of the earth,
A fleeting grace, a quiet mirth.
Their beauty lies in letting go,
A gentle reminder to ebb and flow.

Oh, the leaves! So pure, so free,
A symbol of all we long to be.
In every flutter, every bend,
A story of beginnings and of end.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie