stand watch alone
like ermine-clad nobles
As morning’s brilliant orb
turns the river to liquid gold,
and frosted paths shimmer with fallen jewels
of red, orange, yellow.
Surely, here,
there is enough beauty to dazzle,
and riches enough
to buy our allegiance;
Yet no gaudy show of power
ever forces knee or heart.
Beauty whispers
quietly
her call.
We may pass her by,
or trample her treasures underfoot.
We may throw her a brief, admiring glance.
Or,
stopping to stare
long enough,
our eyes may be opened to glory,
our ears to wisdom,
and our hearts to love.
And, while morning’s golden mist
swirls with echoes
of one final far-off season’s change
- of gilt city, glassy sea and great white throne -
and as the river offers
its glistening Holy Cross for royal sceptre
So, showered with autumn’s confetti,
may our kneeling words be:
“Beloved, I am yours.
With my affection I crown you.”
And, rising,
we may take with us
- sign and token
gift and promise -
one ruby-red leaf
with icy diamonds encircled.
Rachael Barham, Friday 30th October 2009,
St. Stephen, New Brunswick.
(a poem I wrote last year and that comes back to me as the season offers itself to us again)
