In the amber tint of late September,
Coolness walks in with comfort
And color follows close behind.
With the rustling of full branches,
I receive permission to rearrange.
I relearn a lesson from the leaves
Who trust the earth below to brace their fall;
They already know how to let go.
The ache of golden hour light
Becomes an earlier dusk;
I am invited to join in its repose.
Rest and reflection are welcomed as liturgy.
The trees play dress up
And put on a show;
Belonging comes in the front row seat they offer me.
In the amber tint of late September.
I breathe deep with this glow of renewal
And consider—maybe I too can let my walls down.
Image via Raisa Zwart Photography