Flowers climb hills into rills spilling wonder
Silences thunder with nature’s applause
Oh, what is man that such infinite grandeur
Lavishes visage with plumed o-o-o-o-h-s and a-a-a-a-a-a-h-s
Borne on a breeze that strips trees in its laughter
Surges a sonnet that startles thought’s ears
Caught in the middle of before and after
Now siphons moments into gathered years
Time is a tempest; man, blessed with its mercy
By He who ordains its four-season sweep
Sorrow is love in Time's most sacred beauty
Manifested in the tears that we weep
Death broods, woos woodlands back to earth; the hour
Of that transition to its birthplace, dust
Whets an awareness to savor the flower
As all life approaches this severing Must
Oh, be not bitter, this come-hither calling
Touches the air like a harp tunes The Whole
Soft, to the tempo of autumn’s leaf falling
A Maestro composes the song of the soul
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!