One Sunday Driving To Church

There are those two or three weeks in October
When seven trees along Blanchard Road,
(Like the seven lampstands of Revelation),
Illuminate a resurrection,
Phosphorescent foliage,
As if the sun is rising out of their open palms,
Clutched eyes by ten-thousand branching lights,
Vivid amperage, additory voltage,
The sight of nature's autumn wattage,
These modern day burning bushes,
Reminding me to remove the sandals of my soul