I watched the frost efface
as the sun rolled out
like a resurrection.
There is more shine through
the disrobed maples.
Even the burning bush
flamed out, its fires
gathered and sucked
from the curb.
There is a settling into
winter like a turning dog
on his bed.
We sense the withdrawal,
of warmth, of life,
of precious things.
We’re thankful to have been,
we pray to be,
to lean into winter
so spring will eventually
catch our fall.

Seeing autumn not as an ending as things die, but as a preparation for the resurgence of life when the time is right. I guess that is the essence of living with hope.