Tuesday, November 3, 2015

I watch the young run and jump through autumn leaves
In all my years, I am those leaves
Red and golden, as they rustle by a cold wind
I watch the young trundle in joy through deep snow
Soon I will be that snow
After the spring
Their summer
The last autumn of our lives
The winter foretells us beneath a graying sky--it is time


Brother Ollie said...

You speak the truth SC.

Human Paradox said...

I sent you a message in a bottle. It says "please continue to blog."