A Season of Change

Red-gold beauties; a tree on fire.

God speaks as though to Moses: "See me, I am."

I stand in dumb silence;

Tears watering my cheeks I kick off my clogs,

For here is sacred ground.

"I will change you like this tree"

He whispers in my soul's ear.

"For as there is a season to grow,

So there is one to prune,

And reap, and harvest, and lie fallow."

"Now is the season to grow,"

Said the Spirit-Voice inside my head.

"Yet the old leaf must fall to make room for the new.

And some of your leaves, while beauties,

Do not have eternal value."

I cast doubting eyes to the ground;

Resting on a leaf of beauty,

Perfect in size and colour, yet left to rot.

"You would prefer it rot on the branch?" asks the Voice.

"No," I reply. "Make way for the new leaf."