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The Dance of Autumn Trees. Getting inside the skin of creation. The womb of trees that I’ve sat under All spring and summer Is feeling the death threats of winter What amazes me that these trees seem not to mind. Could it be a dance they are doing in the wild wind? Could it be a song
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The Dance of Autumn Trees Getting inside the skin of creation
The womb of trees that I’ve sat under All spring and summer Is feeling the death threats of winter What amazes me that these trees seem not to mind.
Could it be a dance they are doing in the wild wind? Could it be a song they are singing through the raindrops falling on their faces?
Whenever I allow myself to get inside the skin of creation, I know I am in the embrace of Earth. I sense the vital essence, the dancing dynamism, and I bow to the One who holds this dance in an eternal embrace.
I cannot yet be in the heart of these autumn trees. I am still too much a stranger to death, too much a clutcher of the only life I have ever known. By Joyce Rupp