The Sky is Falling

Autumn came and is leaving on her way–dropping her dried notes to the ground. Light a fire against her cold and watch the sky–the wonderful wonderful sky.

c e hollis

Fall has come and the leaves have colored and fallen–turning and tumbling to the ground. Some cartwheel across the browning grass and catch in the fences like late letters from summer. The late trees—oaks hold onto their green and dry their leaves in bunches to a brown. A windy day or two and they will come showering on down to litter the ground.

The sky is bright today and the bluest blue, blue as a baby boy’s blanket.

This morning fog robed every tree and bush in white. The mist rose from the surface of the pond and the grass was watered with a fine if cold film like the outside of a glass of ice water. But soon it was gone–burnt off by the light of morning. The sunlight rose over the eastern horizon and lit every molecule and erased every shadow.

The birds who had been silent and the empty road gradually began to brighten and fill with sound. A tractor is the first to pass by to where a hay field waits. A pair of mourning doves start up their song and the chickens begin their foray in the grass finding bugs for breakfast.

Soon the pond holds reflections of bare tree skeletons and sky scenes.The water should be such a clear blue but it is the replica of the heavens blue and bright with bumper car white clouds and birds on the wing. The cattails have dried and the wind blown out their seeds. The grass is browned and the leaves of the now-bare trees are nestled in the weeds and grasses.

The cold air sweeping overhead sends clouds scudding and spreading across the sky. The wind builds towers of cloud and shapes and molds them. Sometimes the shapes look like something and we laugh and note it. We look for shapes in the clouds because we want messages and imagine that what we see means something fine. But very soon the “pictures” are gone. They say a cloud changes constantly and that shape never is seen again. What fun to watch and see something truly unique and gone in seconds.

I see an old man here with a white beard and a hat. Or some may see Jesus with the crown of thorns. The sky–the sky–the wonderful sky always amazing me with its light and blue, its clouds and with weather rain and storm, snow, hail, lightning. The beautiful sun-filled sky, the pale blue welcome of spring, the heated yellow glow of summer, the cool brightness of autumn and the gray glare of winter, the sunrises and sunsets. The sky is an open book of poetry that the heart can read right well.

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Lovingkindness and truth have met together;

Righteousness and peace have kissed each other.

Truth springs from the earth,

And righteousness looks down from heaven.

Psalm 85:10-11

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