Christ, My Arborist

Every change of season
brings a subtle change in me.
Yes, I’m aging.
I see it.
I feel it.
No man is an Evergreen.
As most seasons end, we are as leaves
generations raked and piled –
all becoming dust.
Of course, my time too shall come,
my season will end.
But because Christ is my arborist,
I have no doubt the colors of my life and passing
will be glorious because of Him.