Appalachian ramble

This is an old world
The geologists will tell you
But you need not consult science
Just take a walk in the woods
In the shadow of the Appalachians
Late in November
When the russet and orange leaves
Cover the forest floor
Like God's tapestry
And your feet scuff across the detrius
Of the year, fallen and dying there
Without a glimpse in your mind
Of the coming of life in Spring
When the trees and bushes
Begin to squeeze the remainder of life
As buds on their surface
And the new green pushes through the seams
Until the daffodils replicate the royal gifts of Bethlehem
And redeem the dead grey of Winter,

But walk through the dying world of November
And hear the silence of sorrow
And the coming of the end of all
And remember the true gift of slumber
Covered over with the thick comforter of Winter
The stars above providing the sole reminder
Of God's immensity in this old, old world.