Scott Thomas Outlar writes

A Dignified Smile

I see God 

in the first hint of orange 

shading through the veins 

of a dying leaf

and I think about 
how strange it is 
that something can become more beautiful 
the closer it comes to an end

I pray that such grace 
flows through my blood 
once this dry skin shrivels and crackles 
and the grave starts yawning for my bones

and I think about 
the dignified smile 
that flashed across my Father’s face 
in the moment before his final breath escaped