God’s Own Time

They came down in fits and starts

Some yellow, some red, some ochre,

Even some green

With dingy browns.

They lay in clusters, in clumps,

In piles, even solo- in rude disarray.

Gone! Gone are days of verdure-

Denuded,divested, dishabille-

The boughs reached out

Splayed twiggy fingers

Into mournful emptiness.

The leaden skies vaulted,

In a dirge of silence,

Above the strewn landscape

Of shorn leaves and hidden sod.

Ebbing! Life’s ebbing moments,

In leafy metaphors, spoke in volumes

The sad tales of waning loves,

Of despair and despondence,

Of the fizzling fights

And of creeping seconds

That dwindle into nothing.

Then, ceasing toil and tremor,

Life lies down in placid content

Waiting for God’s Own Time!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s