After the Storm

This morning, in church, I was asked to read a poem that I wrote some years ago. It was about waiting, and reminded me of a poem that I had started to write last month that was waiting to be finished. This afternoon I finished it. An autumn poem for the season that I find myself in right now:

After the storm there is a calm

that settles on the ground
like the morning dew.
I stand in the mist,
feel the solid earth beneath my feet
and wait
for the dawning of this new day.
Lifeless leaves still fall
orange and red
like fiery tears around me.
The gentle breeze cannot lift
the splintered branches
ripped from the heartwood.
The ray of light reaching
through the clouds
cannot bind the severed timbers.
Yet
after the storm there is a calm
that invites me to observe
the changed landscape
where I stand
on the unshakeable but tear-soaked ground
and wait.