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.

Psalm 121:2

("My Help Comes from the Lord")

A carpet of golden
yellow, a spiritual journey sown by the
breath of the Creator’s
hand Himself, and there
I behold the faintest outlines of
a path, and ginkgo
petals beckon to cushion
the soles of my feet – and to assuage
any underlying fears and
autumnal doubts of where
I am, and where
righteousness leads.

Mark 6: 4-6

"And He Was Amazed at Their Unbelief"

His power was powerless, and
Jesus was astounded by their lack of faith,
because all they saw Him as was
a carpenter’s son, someone
who was just like they were, plain,
ordinary and poor, no better,
someone who once worked with
stone and wood, whose family was known
and who for years had shared
cooling waters from the same
Nazareth well, a carpenter’s son,
who had recently started to
actively preach throughout the
countryside, and who was
now more interested in how
a mustard seed could bloom as
a metaphor for God’s eternal
Kingdom, and who when
questioned about the
payment of Roman taxes,
deflected the attempt to trap Him,
saying to remit to Caesar what
belonged to Caesar and to God what
belonged to God…

Luke 17:11-19

"Where Are the Other Nine?"

“Go and let the
priests examine you,”
Jesus said, and so in fulfillment of
the Law all ten crocuses
obeyed. While enroute to the priests,
they were each made clean, but
only one crocus decided to
return and thank Jesus.
Jesus said, “There were ten
made clean; where
are the other nine?”
The only reply the lone
crocus could make was to stand
in praise, radiant amidst last
autumn’s leaves of brown,
now clothed in Easter’s
finest purple raiment,
and tho’ a Samaritan, no
longer lost but found.

The Lives of Leaves

The lives of leaves,
If ever they could be adequately
Described, lie enciphered
And deciphered
Before me in each
Their final rest, displayed
And splayed, but from
Creation’s inception
Having been touched by the
Hand of the Master,
And so in the Lord’s
Limitless grace, their colors
Now allowed to nestle –
Quilted and counted
Like loaves and fishes at
Tabgha, and in factors of seven
By the shores of the
Sea of Galilee multiplied.