The dawn chill of autumn,

Causing fog at the mouth when we speak. 

The pale sliver of sunlight,

Turning the spiderwebs to crystal dream-catchers. 

The amber hay bales in the fields,

Surrounded by a halo of hovering particles.

The corn drying on the stalks, crisp and crunchy,

Forming a maze for children’s games. 

The old barns on the hills, chipped and decrepit,

Like haunted houses in campfire tales. 

The goldenrod, dancing in the wind,

Holding their blonde heads high in the meadow. 

The heavy mist in the valley,

Swirling around the trees, once gay green, now elegant orange. 

There is so much life, and yet beneath the surface,

The sting of death threatens.

The bite in the air suggests it,

Piercing clothes to make you shiver. 

There is a stillness settling over the earth,

Like the first and last day of creation. 

The bird songs are softer than before,

Like Elvin lays, lamenting a fading glory.  

The color of the leaves is bursting bright,

But will turn to blood before they wither and fall. 

The moments seem to crawl by,

Like the spread of frost across a window pane.

The nights come suddenly, like a thief,

Without the summer sun to ward them off. 

They are heavier now,

Like the winter blankets taken from attic chests. 

My soul is burdened

By an awareness of aloneness…

Yes, by the beckoning of death, 

As empty as a jack-o-lantern,

With its ghoulish grin, 

As hollow as the eye-sockets

Of a moldering skull, 

As meaningless as the echo

Of cawing crows, flying over the pumpkin clusters. 

I long for fire instead of ice,

For understanding instead of confusion,

For the embrace of loved ones long gone,

Instead of my own arms braced against the cold. 

But most of all, I long for God. 

To ask to feel the presence of Him

Is a thing that is known to wound.

Agony comes with ecstasy,

Even for the saints, among whom I hold no place. 

Brilliance is blinding and burning

When it pierces our blackness. 

But I would take it, nonetheless. 

Sink me into fire, plunge me into ice,

But do not let me wander alone in the shadows.

Let us have a place all to ourselves

Where I can lay my head on Your breast, 

Where I may hear your voice whispering

In the gentle breeze, no longer bitter. 

Let us be Lover and Beloved in the depth of the night,

And let not my own self separate us. 

For You are the Love of Loves,

The Delight of All Things, the Breath of Life. 

Let me, at least, tend the wounds

Which I caused You to receive.

Let me kiss them, and cry over them,

As a handmaid.

Bid me break the alabaster jar,

And anoint You with my hair. 

Let me feel the peace that comes with fullness

For an instant, to light the winter’s dark. 

Be my Flame of Autumn in this changing, chilling world,

And in my trembling heart. 

It is all I need.