The Beauty of the Bone

NOVEMBER

The stripped and shapely
Maple grieves
The loss of her
departed leaves.

The ground is hard,
As hard as stone.
The year is old,
The birds are flown.

And yet the world,
Nevertheless,
Displays a certain
Loveliness –

The beauty of
the bone. Tall God
must see our souls
this way, and nod.

Give thanks, we do,
each in his place
Around the table
during Grace.

–John Updike

Many thanks to my friend, Gretchen Joanna, who introduced us to this poem on her blog recently. It's a nearly perfect autumn poem. Plus he adds a dash of theology, leading into Thanksgiving, as autumn does. Not bad for a little poem!