all that i am

in the tender compassion of our God

the dawn shall break
upon us

to shine

on those who dwell in darkness
and the shadow of death
to guide
our feet
into the way of peace

mornings rumble and screech with air brakes and heavy loads
like the reoccurring dream of my childhood
seated
on a tiny chair
upon a heap of rubble
in white
lace anklets and a turquoise twirly skirt party dress
still
and silent as to not make the slightest disturbance
so afraid
of being crushed
in the darkness beneath the silent incessant movement
of the massive metal and debris of the trucks
moving

continually dumping pouring churning piling around me


I have become deaf, immune to the drone of the constant roaring just feet away from me
chugging through morning darkness a distant roar as I kneel in silent darkness praying
crying, weeping

but what I hear as if magnified
as if the only sound
is the song of birds. . . autumn's last songs
and my heart, my soul joins in their simple beautiful natural hush of praise

'praise is the beauty of a Christian
what wings are to a bird
what fruit is to the tree
what the rose is to the thorn
that is praise to a child of God'
        Spurgeon

and my hand finally begins to open to release the fruit of summer loss
and it falls like everything around me
in this its appointed time
in its glory
burning red glowing golden

and even though my heart may know nothing of it
my feet
are being guided in the way of peace
and having done all to stand
I shall stand therefore

in the fall

with Him bent towards me
His open hand reaching for mine

and I will stay
where He has planted me
and I will faithfully wait
in these farewell days of glory in the increasing darkness
for the season that will follow next