Thursday, October 26, 2017

Thursday Poem - Unchurched

Autumnal sun streams through
these yellow maple leaves
translucent as stained glass.

The ground beneath my feet
is strewn with pine cones, acorns.
The random pattern of continuance.

Etched columns of pine and oak.
Incense of resin and fungi.
Great glacial stones for altars.

High winds and choirs of
minor breezes, the whispering hush.
It is the Sabbath. It is enough.

Dolores Stewart
from The Nature of Things
(reprinted here with the late poet's kind permission


Tabor said...

Such a perfect poem for this time of year. I read it outloud twice.

Col said...

a taj mahal in every leaf....precious amber oozing.