in celebration

blackberries have sugared
on the vines
with morning chill

and leaves, injected veins of change,
hang in the alchemy of God;
surrender to the beauty
that cannot, will not stay the same

for the atmosphere of falling
is always somewhere
between frost-tips and
bone warming sunsets
in their streak

calling me to
hold the One
who is past variety
and be
bedazzled
still