Crimson flushes from the cheeks
as chloroplasts from fallen leaves:
dimming eyes, thinning hair--
autumn branches laying bare.
In death and autumn, Lord, I see
Advent beauty waiting Thee.
In spring the trees will bud again
as corpses donning flesh and skin.
New-clothed limbs stretch toward the sun:
the answered prayer--Thy Kingdom come!
For two falls usher man along
from Eden into Eschaton.
