”Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)
Clad in the golds and reds of triumph,
the leaves make the mountains a miracle,
the valleys a place of wonder.
And yet these leaves are dying.
They are about to flutter from the trees
down to the waiting earth where, in death,
they will become soft mulch,
brown mold, and indistinguishable earth.
And then, new leaves again.
And so they die, refusing to remember
with anguish
other days long ago when they were
fresh little tendrils,
breaking from the bud in the lush warmth
of spring.
Or the summer days when they were
green luxuriant foliage.
Instead, they deck themselves in joy.
Because, after the mulch and the mold
and the earth,
they will…
To view this resource, log in or sign up for a subscription plan
