The sure, steady footprints of the coming winter
appear among the leaves still burning
with the fire of the summer sun.
And within the apparitional form
of the turning of the year
is more than the cold of the season
or the ice that is showing at the edges of the lake;
there is the shimmering visage
of He who creates all seasons,
the Master of all Creation, Himself,
His quiet presence felt more than seen,
walking among the maples dripping with sap,
to enjoy the change coming
as Autumn does her perfect work.
I feel His footsteps even now,
strolling across my own woodlands and meadows,
not content with the well-beaten paths I have walked,
but preferring the places where human feet
have yet to tread,
His great heart reveling
in the coming of winter’s peace.