apropå envisa höstlöv

I hear a sound and turn to see
a new direction on that rusty weathervane
Suddenly the dead brown leaves
are stirred to scratch

their circle dances down the lane

And now the sturdy oaks start clappin’
with the last few stubborn leaves that won’t let go
I can hear Old Glory snappin’
and her tattered rope now clangin’ against the pole

And my breath is snatched away
And a tear comes to my eye
Feels like somethin’s on the way so I look up to the sky,
I look up to the sky and...

From the corners of creation
Comes the Father’s holy breath
Ridin’ on a storm with tender fierceness
Stirring my soul to holiness
Stirring my soul to holiness
(Chris Rice)