EQUINOX

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As the sun sets on summer,
your heart smudged with hues of
gold, purple, rose and blue,
ripe with long days of straw hats

and toes in warm water,
heed the call of the harvest –
songs being sung just over the hill
as wheat and barley dust
fills the air, readying you for
a slower pace, a reckoning of
heady months gone by.

This is not a time for despair,
to weep for time passed –
but a celebration of all that has

matured from innocent seed

sheltered and shaped,

watered with gallons of faith

so that it might

blossom in profusion,
yield great bounty.

Reach out, pluck this

miraculous fruit, place it

gently in your pocket –
fuel to feed you as we
empty into shorter days,
prepare for upcoming

stretches of quiet

reflection, rest
and retreat.