On a hunch,
I turned off an asphalt path
to descend into a Kentucky creek bed
that wandered through a grove of trees.
October had announced the change of seasons
and trees displayed their mustard-brown, golden fashions.
Earth tones would be "in" again this year.
I stopped on a slope, and
overheard applause in the treetops.
Trunks stood at attention during the ovation
while others bent in awe of the Passerby.
Laser-like rays of sunlight pinpointed the forest's floor
through stained-glass patterns of leaf and limb.
Wind gained momentum from the far end of the tree lined corridor
like an ocean wave mounting an attack upon the beach.
Leaves clapped in crescendo at center stage.
As if on cue, tree after tree cast down golden, orange, and brown
pieces of their best artwork
like the followers of Jesus at his Triumphal Entry.
The air was supercharged with falling color;
A brisk autumn breeze bounced off rock, tree, and stream.
Branch beat against branch, barking out the sound of marching drums.
Trumpeting birds and meandering deer joined the passing song.
Who was the center of this celebration?
Who commanded the honor of this grove?
Who called for this display of high fall fashion?
What deed elicited the admiration of all Creation?
Wind made its way through the crowded grove past where I stood.
Clapping leaves calmed to children's chatter.
Sunlight sparkled on the freshly decorated forest floor.
Clouds suspended movement overhead.
A breath of Spirit touched my face.
Then I knew.
I had chanced upon Creation's ticker tape parade for her King.
I had seen a Psalmist's song to the Creator.
In their final days of summer growth,
before each plant rested from its labor,
this village of elm and oak and maple--with aid from wind and sun--
orchestrated a parade to praise and honor
the One who brought them life.
I took off my shoes...and joined in the praise of our Creator.