Poem: Walking in Autumn

The path is gold with fallen fire,
Each leaf a whisper, soft, entire.
The air is cool, yet gently sweet,
With earth and wood beneath my feet.

A hush of wind through maple’s hand,
The sky a pale and distant strand.
The sun slips low, a molten seam,
And all the world begins to dream.

I breathe the season’s quiet song,
Of endings that to life belong.
Each step a rhythm, soft and small—
I walk with time, and feel it all.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie