When God Calls
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Silent and docile, like the lamb
The trees sit focused on the afternoon breeze
Arms tossing to and fro amid the gusts
Whispering softly to all who pass by
Quiet and mild, like the lamb
The trees begin to bend their hands
Down toward the carpeting below them
A crimson array of passionate forest
Unspoken and warm, like the lamb
The trees slowly reach toward the wafts
Of humid air that is alive with the clothes
The trees keep tossing off their long limbs
Hushed and submissive, like the lamb
The trees lose all the colors that had graced them
With fashions from golds, ambers and scarlet
Flamboyant shades that now lie covering the ground
Voiceless and pleasant, like the lamb
The trees call out to be remembered for what they are
Individual species with all the colors of fall
Enlivening and sweetening their call
Like the lamb, who was crucified for all
These trees die down in the fall
Leaving only their clothing strewn on the lawn
Like the lamb, they arise again when God calls
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2019
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