They change before my eyes:
translucent, transparent telling
of coming changes chanting
their farewells across the sky.
If trees could talk what would
be said of their transformation?
Would willows weep or birches
balk as their leaves are wisp away?
Maples seem to chatter in wind;
while oaks remain stately and only
rumble, rattle, roar as autumn exits
clinging to their crisp leaves till spring.
My life could be as those sturdy oaks
torn by stormy winds on darken days,
as seasons change by hand of God I
choose to cling to Him until spring again!
I would fly away and be at rest.
Indeed, I would wander far off,
And remain in the wilderness.
I would hasten my escape
From the windy storm and tempest.”Psalms 56:6-8