We have around us a touching picture in nature: the leaves on the trees have fallen. At first, we mourn the loss of the canopy of leaves, and then we notice what is revealed by this loss: the bare, expressive branches of the trees reaching up and out, as dramatic gestures to “read.”  And suddenly we see the sky, we see the heavens and the slanting rays of silver light. Could these bare branches be the remnants of the “old song?” The old song recalls for us the past lushness of foliage. The old song was beautiful. Where and when will the new song begin?

We must look closely at those bare twigs and branches, and then we see the chaste buds clinging to the branches. All these tight round buds appear like notes– could they actually be the notes of the “new song?” The buds will in time swell and open to the warmth and light of the sun. And the new song will be “voiced” by the elements, the water, wind, singing birds. We can expect the notes of the new song to open in harmony.

And if we can learn to “read” these notes, can we sense the melody of the future? And could we too join in the song of the future? But perhaps the new song has not been finished, it is still being composed. It needs our notes. We too hide buds in our souls, which can develop as the old dies away. These buds warm and swell in the presence not only of the sun, but of the Son-God. He is near, and he helps the dried leaves of our half-truths to fall before his light. He longs for the goodness and truth in each one of us to burst open and ring out in the new song.

Contemplation by Rev. Susan Locey