Autumn Promise

 

Autumn in New England,
with the days drawing in,

with the cracking sounds of
acorns falling from oak trees and
the rustling sounds of variegated
leaves under our feet,

all showing their finest gold,
russet, bronze, and even
occasional green hues,

with the geese raising their
beaks to the expectant sky,
voices echoing off the water, <
unfolding their wings and
arrowing up toward their
waiting southern winter home.

There are many who mourn these
harbingers of approaching winter,
but this is not my way,
for I celebrate the change of
each season as it appears,
with joy and anticipation.

Autumn winds carry what
summer could not release,
and the longer nights carry
a promise of hush and rest,
calm and surrender, and
expectancy and true wonder
for what is to come.

Winter is, after all,
not the death of life, but
the deepening of its dream,
and the spark of becoming
a new spring full of hope.

— Deb Stone

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