Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And, yes, heart, what looks, what lips yet gave you a
Rapturous love’s greeting of realer, of rounder replies?
And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder
Majestic–as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet!–
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
Wanting; which two when they once meet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.
– Hurrahing in Harvest, Gerard Manley Hopkins
Autumn means less light, it means the discomfort of colder temperatures, it means rising before the sun is up, it means that everything that grows falls apart again, it means that we will die.
And yet – last weekend I sat under a blanket with my beloved and thought maybe, just maybe I can learn to like this season of decay and change. Maybe the people in my life who sweep in after the leisurely isolation of summer make it worth it to endure the cold. Maybe a season of change means that I can change too, that I can keep my eyes fixed on God’s world-wielding shoulder and let that be more for me than the grief I feel.
These things were here and but the beholder wanting.