9/25/2016

Autumn passes over the world,
Brimming
Quiet and certainty.

The cicadas go.
Then the katydids.

Then the memory
Of what the
Dead trees looked like in spring.

Brittle gold,
Finality, pass
To the stalks and fields,

And the twilights make their
Agreement again with
Fire,
Low
In the early night.

Green and growth
Shrink from old pathways
And the space between homes.

The secret ways north
Turn obvious again.