The hills alight with colors bright
Proclaim self - immolation.
Their beauty lives as one last flight
Before autumn’s ablution.
The woods aflame, spared agony,
Are suffused with hues of tangerine,
Glow citron, warm mahogany,
Magenta, and crimson in between.
Pale light sifts down amid soaring beams,
Illumes a cathedral made of trees
With swaths of glory sent in streams
To beckon worship out of me.
And praise I must with eyes that see,
By God’s design, within this bower
The secret beauty meant for me:
My faith renewed at just this hour.
first published in St. Anthony’s Messenger
also published in Illinois State Poetry Society
also published in Book of Joys
also published in PICTURE HEALING Chapbook
©1997 Bonnie Manion