It's Autumn
And this is the rainbow
of leaves—bouquets
of fire and brilliance
that almost blind me
yet I don’t blink
for fear of missing
one second of this splendor.
And these are the dried leaves
brittle beneath my boots
veins exposed between
the lacy brown skin
wilted and weary
from their flight
to the crooked path of Mill Pond.
And this is the woman
who has lived through
the brilliant autumns
of her life—headed
toward winter
and its bare boned trees
covered in a white blanket.
She is huddled in cashmere
reciting last wishes
knitting regrets into
the yarn of her shawl
weeping for lost autumns
and autumns yet to come.
(2012)
