Ode to a Ginkgo’s Leaves

O yellow, sometimes e’en
gold, but with a tinge of slightest green,
undulating before my gaze,
each leaf’s changing
as the sun o’er my shoulder
leans, o you, dear leaves, doth arrest
me in my tracks, because
there is something
about your countenance,
which makes me believe you once
cradled my Savior’s
Shadow as He walked past.