By Annette Marie Hyder

Framed in sudden shadow from the sinking sun
the leaves, illuminated in groups of 3×4, look like stained glass windows
that creak and sway upon the trees in the autumn wind.
The day murmurs an evening prayer into the high, neck-tipping dome
of the cathedral sky while my knees kiss the earth,
and the fingers of the breeze count my hair-strands as rosaries
and the world around me sighs
in pleasure.
The tree-walls around me seem flagged with goodness
and filled with the song of ancient things
that tilt with me and bow as one
gratefully inclined.