brilliant, yellow trees, cry, Glory to God!
carpeting the ground, with a generous
alms of golden leaves; a lofty chorus
of fluttering foliage, waving branches, and
bounteous sunlight; a royal broadloom of
marriages and ordinations worsted
and spun from the time that ever was and
ever will be, cuddles the forest floor,
in anticipation: a welcoming, courtly
reception for the final return of
their King, a King with Feet to Trod, a King
Whom all creation eagerly awaits.
Gary Edward Geraci