Autumn Flight

Soaring Down
 

The glory of God sparkles in

things that soar – like leaves

 leaping from a tree in Autumn. 

Fledglings in space, they

 lean out and

stretch to test the wind.

 

 I saw a whole flock of them loose
their grip on frail perches to

 fling themselves into

the air flapping,
 lofting,
sinking,

spinning and

boogying in the sun –

a  flurry of foil shimmering
in vagrant patches of sun.
 

They did not go downward  like
the quarry slave at night. 
 

They rose and fell and

rose again making the

flight down

as flight up

into a simple settled state.  

 

At last they lit upon the moss,

a hoard of crackle Grackles,  melting

into the scented earth to

await resurrection through the trunk,
the bud,
the flower
and the greening again.
 

Nothing falls that is not lifted up.
 Nothing melts into oblivion. 
 

Everywhere the message of

 springing is writ so
 we will seize the glory of
 the present moment and

shine in the sun while it is light.

 
This is the way of all flying things and
all things fly that rise in gases,
 in sap,
 like fluids that
flow downward only
 to be lifted to fall in
endless rhythm. 
 

This is the splendor written in

the cycle,

 the circling down,

the rising up,
 the greening,
 the color going,
and the endless spiral of

dying and becoming.

All things defy the clutch of  gravity
 but are never bound because

 there is wonder in the way of things.

It is glory to come down and then go up. 

 

This glory dazzles.