Today I took a long walk.
Leaves of golden yellow, burnt orange, deep red, crunchy brown all swirled around. The sun peaked through the colorful leaves on the trees, drying the damp sidewalks while warming the crisp, autumn air.
As the air entered my lungs, I felt like I was breathing freely for the first time.
A new time in life. A refreshed, happy, joy-filled time away from the darkness that was.
This poem, offered in as the words of praise this week in chapel, fills my spirit.
Glory be to God for dappled things -
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced - fold, fallow, and plough;
All all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange ;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
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