The Trees are Undressing

The trees are undressing, and fling in many places—
On the gray road, the roof, the window-sill—
Their radiant robes and ribbons and yellow laces;
A leaf each second so is flung at will,
Here, there, another and another, still and still.

A spider’s web has caught one while downcoming,
That stays there dangling when the rest pass on;
Like a suspended criminal hangs he, mumming
In golden garb, while one yet green, high yon,
Trembles, as fearing such a fate for himself anon.

~Thomas Hardy “Last Week in October”

So we too may be flung into the unknown,
trembling in the chill wind,
unready to let go of what sustains us,
fated to land wherever the storm blows.

Yet caught up by a silken thread,
left to dangle suspended by faith
to await the hope of rescue, alone and together,
another and another, still and still.

One thought on “The Trees are Undressing

  1. I have searched for a word, a phrase, that interprets your comments for me here, dear Emily.
    This is the closest that assured and excited my soul in particular:

    “…caught up by a silken thread left to dangle suspended by faith
    to await the hope of rescue…”

    For me, it is the faith-filled promise of our transition from ‘death’ (nothingness) to eternal life with Him.
    If we did not have and truly believed in that assurance, then we have nothing but the complete
    definitive end of all being of our temporal human life.
    Absolutely nothing!

    Thank you for this reminder.

    Liked by 1 person

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