Fall 2021

September morning breezes whisper the unrooting of summer’s green carpets and

blossomed meadows in anticipation of the changeless mystery of autumn and the

foretelling winter’s barren bone. While down below ancient earth produces again the necessary

spools and spools of burnished color to unravel, with giddy delight, across the mountains,

hills, and plains. The opened arms of branch and stem stand in glorious array before the final

stripping—to be undone at last, to surrender amidst upheaval and chaos, to know it’s finally

finished. And yet to hope—knowing the seed remains, the seed remains—buried in

darkness awaiting severity and mercy mingled—the planting, plowing, and reaping of justice.

5 Comments Add yours

  1. REbecca Jacob says:

    And yet to hope––knowing the seed remains.

    1. Bonnie says:

      It is our anchor!

  2. Mimi Ribble says:

    Love it, Bonnie. Your words create such wonderful pictures in my head.

    1. Bonnie says:

      Thank you, Mimi!

  3. Ann Hunter says:

    Causes me to be excited about the Fall yet such peace we have in the assurance the seed is still there! Love to see you writing more!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s