Newberg Autumn

Branches illuminated
My hair afire
Auburn whisps of
Autumn in the corner of my eye

Shadows slyly cast
A darker shade of green
Face pricked by cool wind’s fingernails
And the burn of a cloudless sky

Serene and the sound of machinery
Still and the smell of green growing
Silent and the expectation of
All that waits to be

A God who loves color
And me.
A God who loves color and me.