Every autumn, landscaping workers
descend upon the earth with blowers roaring,
attacking red, yellow, and orange leaves
as though they were evidence of some shameful truth
that must be obliterated.
The battle will not end until first snowfall, when snow
will become the next Enemy.
Every autumn, the tree outside our temple
gifts us with a gradual snowfall of
tiny yellow leaves,
which cling to our shoes
and accompany us inside,
creating a carpet of yellow
on the sanctuary floor.
Years ago we stopped trying to rake outside
or vacuum inside.
No battle, no enemy.
We just open our arms
and welcome autumn
into our prayers