I’m thresholding, G-d, in another season of Autumn in my midlife.
Grant that I may let go in the way of the Maples & Ginkgos,
over time, with a whole season to release.
Let my relinquishing be just as vibrant, in haunting hues of ridiculous reds and golden yellows,
delighting others needing encouragement to let go.
Encourage me, like the trees, to release,
secure in the embrace of a community that supports me radically at our foundations,
reassuring me I won't collapse under the exhaustion of letting go;
May what has been obscured or hidden, either by design or necessity,
May what has been obscured or hidden, either by design or necessity,
be revealed in the approaching season of sabbatical rest.
Nothing gold can stay, I know. Even the Burning Bushes flare up like a flame,
making shadows You can move in.
