All That Glitters

   It's the last gasp of autumn before true winter comes to claim what is hers. The leaves have mostly fallen to become curled and brittle shadows of themselves. Once again, the earth is preparing itself for sleep.
    But here and there the gold and the red still shine. These tender beauties cling to trees that have been protected from the North wind or have been sheltered by other trees.
    Their beauty is haunting.

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And fraught with magic and a sense of the Divine.

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It is an otherworldly beauty that calls forth the longing for the immortal in the heart of mankind.

From Blue Pueblo (Callender, Scotland)

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I cannot help but be reminded of this bit of poetry from J.R.R. Tolkien, a writer who knew all about the magic of the seasons of the earth as well as the seasons of a man's life. 

All that is gold does not glitter
and all that is long does not last;
All that is old does not wither
not all that is over is past.

Do not grow weary in well-doing. He is coming soon. Just as He said he would.