The trees turn gold, burn orange, burst into scarlet flame before giving up their leaves this day before December here in north Florida. The red filling green and the branches preparing to stand bare, brave in our winter that is still coming.
The flowers lean in to long afternoon light. My small pocket camera catches big pictures and even me in them against the brick of my childhood house.
I know what it is like to hold onto the colors and even to paint them back when it saves face. The right balance gives me back a little of my cheek bone structure that has somewhat lost its nerve in these recent days.
So much is changing and I celebrate seasons turning from autumn’s gold to Christmas red. The red, the green standing side-by-side, poinsettia leaves reminding some great gifts come only with winter’s cold and not all leaves fall off in the fire. Some only burn brighter.
And I capture the fall’s long light as it makes rough places beautiful if not smooth. Flames kindle in bushes still that dare to lift bold bare arms to heaven. Life here is not less inspiring. There is much to celebrate, but some seasons have to be lived in secret, in quiet before they can be formed into lines of prose. And the only words that matter at all are the ones lived out low and still, bold and strong one moment at a time.
The wind blows amber leaves into flight and fans trees into flame.
May I too be burning, carried on His breath, offering bared arms and heart to heaven.