November Psalm

Suggested Reading: Psalm 19

In autumn, God’s power is mysterious
fog in the morning and a vast, orange moon.
We find him in the strange beauty of a dying world:
a carpet of red and yellow leaves,
bare branches reaching to the sky —
a supplication

and contemplation.
The world submits and ponders its fallen state.
Riotous colors give way to bleak gray,
the nights grow long,
the sun more distant.
We bow our heads in gratitude

for the mist that will one day clear,
for the moon that promises change,
for starry brightness amid a cold, black night.
And for the last leaves, tragic and glorious,
returning to the earth and whispering,
death is not forever.

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