Autumn in the Air

The fresh morning chill of the garden 
is  bright with 
early sunshine. 

 The close tapestry of the leaves shimmer
 with heavy dew
threaded through with the

fragile beauty of cobwebs. 

Insubstantial as a whisper,

but trap -tough,

they hang enticingly punctuating the green spaces

which glow with a final flourish of colour.

 After a spectacularly poor summer 
the darkening evenings are coming in too soon
but I still thrill to the
 strange expectant hush of autumn;

             somehow sweeter to me than spring.

I know this brief season is only a hesitation 

before the bleak reality of winter,

 yet I always wonder if

 despite all the evidence it could be true that

 the best is yet to come.

New Living Translation (©2007)
And though you started with little,

 you will end with much.

Job 8:7

Be Blessed

The Spoken Word, and The Sped arrow

This feather lay glowing early on the dew-drenched grass.

Close by, another feather stood like an arrow

 between the blades of grass.

Looking at this shaft-less flighted arrow,

I struggled to remember;

was it,

*"The sped arrow and the spoken word can never be re-called."

How is it one feather floats harmlessly to the ground

 whilst the other is capable of

 embedding itself?

 How is it so many words whirl around us everyday,  

most to leave us unmarked 

whilst some will pierce us with meaning,

 sometimes to our harm, some times to our healing?

Be Blessed

*On searching for an accurate quote, I find this version,

fuller and even graver than the one I thought I knew.

“Four things come not back:

 the spoken word, the sped arrow,

 the past life and the neglected opportunity.”