Whirling in the winter wind

Whirling in the winter wind, dead leaves
Dry and brown and broken ever more
Send their substance to the souls bereaved

People pray and yet do not believe
Christ was born and angels him adored
On the winter wind float dying leaves

By our spirits may we be deceived,
Even in the heart’s quiet hidden core,
Sharing presence with all us bereaved?

Look into the sun and fire perceive
Power destroys the lives of all its whores
On the wind float lingering, burned out leaves

For men of power think they can God deceive
Yet even kings will die despite their force
To lie in marble graves, of love bereaved

Wrapped in cloths of linen, cream and coarse
With no coffin, Jesus high is borne
With the wind, with ashes , with dead leaves,
The photons of his love light hearts bereaved