Spilling our prayers on the world
Like leaves in the wind,
As if there could never be enough.
They fly recklessly,
Turning and spinning
Most of them finding their way
Into great crackling piles
That will be swept away,
Forgotten, turned back to earth.
But perhaps one or two
Will rise into autumn's bluest sky,
A bit of fire in the waning light,
And love will grow from them,
And light will follow them
Into October's darkness,
And this created world
Will bless the trees
For their faithfulness.
--Timothy Haut, October 16, 2013
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