Each Friday I post a poem from my archive, until I run out.
Far outside my window, the crimson sun,
So radiant as it moves to where it sets,
There sits obscured by one tree’s flaming colors.
Oh, how glorious is the sight! Autumn comes.
Soon the leaves will fall; seasons turn again,
Continuing the cycle God began
When he in the beginning set the world
A-spinning like a top around the sun.
How faithful he has ever been to us,
Supporting in its course this fragile globe,
And shielding us from ends in fire and ice
Were it to stray away too close or far
From its appointed journey through the void;
How faithful giving us our daily bread,
Water and air to fill our every need,
And sending rain and light upon the earth
(On men, unjust or just) each in its time
To bring some profit from the farmer’s toil.
But yet more blest be he, our Lord and God,
For he delays his harvest, however white,
In hope that some that seem mere weeds may grow
To fruitful grain that he will gather then
In judgment’s mercy to his heaven’s barns.
I wrote this only a few weeks ago, after seeing the sun setting behind a tree that had changed its colors early. As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. You can read more of my poetry in the archives.
This poem also posted on my wiki.