Anyone can see
those pale curves were molded by a master.
No amount of dust, no darkened corner
can hide the same truth told by the sun
as it sinks into lavender mountains
whose rustling, fragrant trees hug glinting streams,
uncurling ferns, a dragonfly wing:
the creation reveals its creator
with a silent shout.
When the air chills and the light dims,
Autumn flames, then falls,
All that glory ground into the winter wet earth
With other dead things.
Because in winter
Life lies beneath, devouring death,
Transforming all the rot and worthless things
Until they cradle life, holding it in trust
Until warmth and light return
And the earth breaks open, greens and flowers.
A shout of triumph,
An anthem of joy.