The morning light is low
Do not think of it with sorrow
As the sign of coming dark and cold –
See how the stands of giant reed,
The fields of milkweed
Are lit to pale brilliance,
Waves of silver flame.
See how the roadsides yet are limned
With the golden treasures of fallen leaves,
Shifting and lifting as if still alive.
See how the country roads curve away
Amid colours more tender, more gentle,
Than any seen in fair and careless summer.
Even when the sky is heavy with grey cloud
The soft breathing of the earth,
Slipping toward winter sleep,
Makes beautiful the very air,
Imbues the ground with the peace
Of all things at home,
Their places known,
God’s order shown.
Clerk, Hamilton Monthly Meeting
(C) 2018 Quakers in Hamilton