When Autumn Comes…

When autumn comes, then you and I 
Can get away from all this mess: 
We'll sit somewhere, beneath the sky 
In blessèd, peaceful, idleness, 

And taste the wind, and smell the sound 
Of what it means to silent be, 
When there's no noise or crowd around, 
And we can just be you and me.

When autumn comes, we'll find a way 
Into, out of, and off beyond; 
Inquisitive, and natural -- 
The grass, the sky, the leaves, the pond -- 

For somehow, in our daily-ness, 
We've left off much for little gain: 
When autumn comes, then you and I 
Can reason leave to find 

Our sane

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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