![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f494b2_78754ab1ac3f40dca9dc23fcab4691c3~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_735,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/f494b2_78754ab1ac3f40dca9dc23fcab4691c3~mv2.jpg)
Against the bluest of skies,
fired by the sun,
golden maple leaves
l e a p
into singing wind.
Whirling and dancing
flitter and falling,
spiraling, summersaulting
until landing on bed of gold.
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f494b2_f7a86b1b058c4af4ae411e4feef7d0f7~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_662,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/f494b2_f7a86b1b058c4af4ae411e4feef7d0f7~mv2.jpg)
Christening the green grass
by the glimmering pond
o n l y
for the praise of His glory.
-Mother Clare
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f494b2_4c900c84c77a464990f1913cac7656f5~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_735,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/f494b2_4c900c84c77a464990f1913cac7656f5~mv2.jpg)
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