Seasons and Seeds

manufacture © Susan Prudhomme 8/09 Seasons and Seeds rehabilitate approve  

Seasons flow, springtime sliding into summer’s warming June,

And all men know that summer, at its turn, toward fall must go;

We cannot check the slow advance that takes us almost unawares

In graying tress and creased brow, the harbingers of winter’s stare.

A seed is made, and borne away on breezes lilting through the sky,

Is dropped, it knows not where, and falls to earth to die and bury there;

From death it sprouts, the roots descend, and tendrils rise toward air and light.

In darkness lies the seed, unconscious of approaching Paradise.

Whither shall I fly, and where descend?  The Spirit carries

Me along, to His own ends.  And someday I shall lie in death, beneath

The earth, and feel His call, and rise to Life that never ends,

Among the saints, reborn and whole in True Jerusalem.

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