Back to my little piece of heaven this morning, my world quiet and unscheduled. I picked up Penelope from vet brother’s clinic and she danced all over the yard with happiness when we came home. Kat walked with us like she was on the leash, too. I think she’s missed Penelope. We have a new cat trying to move in. Kat has graciously shared her chow but yesterday I started leaving a small bowl of chow and water for it. Looks just like Winston Churchill so we’re calling it Churchill. If it’s turn out to be girl we’ll just call her Churchilla. Penelope wolfs at it ferociously but she’s loved Kat from day one.

I’m sitting in the swing, legs stretched out on the polka dot swing cushion, enjoying this pretty blue sky day, watching the oak tree being stripped of his golden ballerinas, the fall dancers pirouetting slowly to the ground. My yard is now a complete carpet of acorns and leaves. Have to be careful walking around filling the bird feeders. A soft breeze echoes across the porch playing a pleasant melody on the wind chimes, a symphony I’ve named The Last Dance of the Leaves. Some of the old water oaks are stripped bare, their naked limbs clawing heat from the yellow sun. The crab apples and maple trees are almost naked, too. Yesterday their leaves gleamed like stained glass cathedral windows, now resembling churches in the forgotten impoverished neighborhoods, their limbs barren in spots where the rocks broke the glass.

The sky is full of clouds, some of them gray in their bellies, waiting and gathering moisture to feed the storms that are due tomorrow. Quotes about blue skies talk of hope and freedom. Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote, “That saints will aid if men will call; For the blue sky bends over all.” God covers us all in his love and is always standing steadfast waiting to offer divine intervention when we pray for hope. We look to the sky and see the vastness of God’s glory and creative power. Psalm 19:1 reads, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.”

As Rabindranath Tagore wrote, “Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” Tonight the sunset was beautiful in its glorious layers of color. Mother Nature dressed the sun in a sterling silver gown and Father Sky wearing a starched white oxford cloth shirt, tucked in his creased Levi’s with turquoise belt, took the sun’s hand and they skipped and danced down the horizon in their cowboy boots through brush strokes of aqua and pink watercolors. As Father Sky lay the sun down and kissed her goodnight, a watermelon wildfire in layers of deep pink and warm gold rushed and blazed across the horizon. So beautiful, like a delicious delicate dessert, a dollop of whipping cream on top, spooned in a cut glass compote.

The man in the moon, Mr. Waxing Crescent, had a perfect view of the sunset. He was dressed in a suit of luminous pearl floating high in the blue ocean of the sky. As evening fell he hid from Father Sky behind the purple rain clouds, embarrassed to be up so early. When Penelope and I came in for the night Father Sky was searching through the night sky’s clouds looking for his moon and stars.

Konrad Adenauer wrote, “We all live under the same sky, But we don’t all have the same horizon.” When I look at the horizon at dusk, I see the beautiful day that belonged to the evening and its glorious colors. I’m sure some see the day’s end and dread the darkness of night, the loneliness that comes when the sun sets. We all share the same world but our horizon is colored by our experiences and by our faith. If I see the horizon darkening, I know my faith and my prayers for hope will bring a sunrise of glorious light from the Lord.

“You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.” — http://www.azquotes.com