September 2009
I awoke this morning before
The sun eclipsed the horizon.
A soft breeze was blowing, all the trees responding . . .
But, something was different —
It smelled of the next season.
I stood still to take it in
And consider its deeper meaning.
“It’s too early for this season to change;
It is not the right time . . . “
Nevertheless, the season change had begun,
Making way for a time-shift.
Oh, the day was as normal as could be
in its present season,
But the shift was unmistakable.
A new season was coming . . .
A new time was coming . . .
Brilliant blooms and greens in the garden
Would die and fall away . . .
Their glory gone forever.
The final crops would yield its largest fruits —
Abundant and sustaining through the winter.
A new season is coming;
The glorious dead and gone.
And with it comes plowed fields and new growth,
Something never before seen,
Buried deep underground
Just awaiting the winter rains and a long, cold winter
To pry loose its precious seed sown long ago.
Don’t despise the changing season;
Don’t lament the new times coming.
For each new season brings its own beauty, growth, glory,
And riches
That deeply nourish the roots of the planted.
Welcome this shift,
And put on the clothes to work this new season:
Be ready — Prepare yourself! —
To plow, to water, to plant, to weed, to sweat,
To rest, to wait,
To gather, to harvest.
Make way for the new,
And appreciate the passing season
For its bountiful wealth.
It is time!
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