Let Me Die as the Leaves Die

Let me die
As the leaves die,
Gladly.

Clad in the golds and reds of triumph,
They make the mountains a miracle
And the valleys a fairyland of wonder.

Yet these leaves are dying.
They are about to flutter from the trees
Down to the waiting earth where in death
They will become soft mulch, brown mold,
And indistinguishable earth,
And then new leaves again.

So they die,
Refusing to remember with anguish
Other days long ago
When they were fresh little tendrils
Breaking from the buds in the lush warmth of spring,
Or the summer days when they were green luxuriant foliage
Swept by the threat of sudden storm.

Instead, they deck themselves in joy,
Because after the mulch and the mold and the earth
They will become new leaves again.
This must be the meaning of their reds and their golds.
They are happy as they die.

God, let me die
As the leaves die,
Gladly.

- D. C. Clausen

What is death to a Christian but a glorious sunset and the dawning of a more blessed day in summerland where eyes are never wet with the tears of separation!