The Splendor of Being

I lift my hands

But you lift my soul.

As the autumn breeze stirs the dry brush

I mourn the loss of color,

But you prepare a place

For the splendor of spring

And its bounteous increase

While using the seemingly dull and sad fragments

As manna.

I close my eyes and look with my soul,

Taking a deep breath

I can almost smell the increase,

The new life,

As I smile at the beauty

Of eternity . . .

With YOU.

By Martha L Shaw – Copyright 10-22-12