Glory Song

We arrived as uninvited stumblers into a concert of one,

at a doorway to an aspen cathedral,

the white pillars reaching skyward in a silent anthem of golden hues,

echoing in orange and brown—

with each breeze,

a new dance of spiraling color decorated the paths where we walked,

as leaves de-crescendoed earthward—

the trees' last contribution of yearly beauty,

a forest symphony orchestrated for the eyes of God—

but today—for a brief measure of time—

the leaves spent their beauty for us,

mere mortals,

eavesdroppers on a glory song.