Oh Lord,
God of the harvest,
Let us find ourselves like trees,
enveloped in the early morning mist of your love.
May our leaves be festive,
full of color and life,
even as they fall to the ground.
Help us,
to let go of the things we often hold tight to,
and allow them to be carried away,
by your gentle breeze.
Allow storms to test our strength and revive our roots.
Grow us tall,
that we might be the climbing place of children,
broad,
that we might be shade to the weary.
From root to leaf be our sustenance,
until the day we are cut down.
But even then,
use us as lumber.