Unless a Grain of Wheat Falls

Here is a poem I wrote and a picture I took today.  I don't know if it is quite done.  It was inspired by difficult changing seasons of life.  There is a significant season of life that is coming to an end at our home, which I wrestle with.  But I believe something will come of it in the end.  I thought about having the opening line be "I hate life, because it dies."  But I decided otherwise...

Unless a Grain of Wheat Falls

Spring shoots blossom delicate, purple promises of perpetual sunshine.
Dancing heat mixes deep greens in the cauldron of synthesizing leaves.
And then the soft carpet caves.


Falling spheres bring visible breath, and shivers to tanned skin.
Healthy trees release martyrs screams in vivid reds and orange.
Blue fingers reach from grievous clouds to squeeze the veins of landscapes gray.


Tears from heaven ice earth's dying bones and crystallize its pain.
Coldest tears float on angels' breath and shape precise paintings. 
Soft snow sends us close to warm the hearth with fire that thaws our divides.


Cheeks will wet, and biceps ache, pain pierces fingertips.
But Cycle of end, has brought us again to the circle of life and delight.