Lord,
they say
the leaves are
dying.
But how can
this be what dying
looks like?
Glorious brilliance
pixelating the deep
green forests
with shimmering
sunshine?
Is it dying
that causes them
to sing out
such beauty?
Or is it a life time,
however brief,
of bathing in
light?
Can our dying
be this blessed?
Our living
such pure
gift?
——
The Lord is God,
and he has made his light shine on us.
Psalm 118:27
From Heaven at my Door by Juanita Ryan
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