all the scattered leaves that fall tumble in the park; all of them, like you and me, barely leave a mark how the seasons tear us down, wind blows here, and yon -- all the scattered leaves we are: here today and gone
Tag: Time
Cherries By The Lake
The heat was so oppressive, we
Could barely make it up the hill
That overlooked the distant lake.
A shack with cherries there for sale,
A tiny windmill in the yard,
And both of us, exhausted —
The woman said, “Come in. Cool off.”
The air felt like a swimming pool
And you and I ate cherries in our chairs.
This comes back now, I think, because
How often, these days, all we share
Is that we both are tired,
But that such sharing is a thing.
And even one remembered fond,
Might make today, well
Easier
To share is human:
The Grove
I woke. My people turned to trees.
Then wondered, if I had the chance
Could I, too, with the cold winds learn
to dance?
It is the grove that gives us life.
The sun, the soil that we share,
The tears of those who watch o’erhead,
their left-by mulch, subconsciously aware —
I sleep; my people growing tall.
Now am I just too fast to feel
The slower dance that’s only dreamed,
but far more
real?
To share is human:
The Burning Ones
I sat and watched the burning ones.
They came in twos and threes:
The night was their intoxicant,
And ardor, their disease —
I see them, too, in memory,
They’re everywhere about —
For when you are a burning one,
You’re destined to
Go out
To share is human:
the fading
our bright days:
we take them wholly
for granted
youth knowing not age,
and living
each moment anew
scents that sharp,
and tastes so brilliant
can linger
but with years and miles,
comes the dusk,
withal the fading
To share is human:
Little Understood
We last ate here decades ago. It hasn’t changed.
When I was just a kid, this was
The height of elegance;
My parents took their three kids here
And dined
And now I’m back in this old place
By dint of random chance:
It’s faded, slightly, but it’s still
Refined
I little understood, back then,
Just what it must have meant;
My parents did not throw money
Around
We take what we are given
As a grant when we are young;
Just part of life, like food or air
Or ground
And parents never know, when they
Set out to give a gift,
Which of the many treasures they’ve
Amassed
Will mean the most to kids, who tend
To take it all in stride;
But now, I finally understand
At last
To share is human:
Empty Manor
The years have been unkind here
Once so fine in my eyes
The empty things we envy
When we get fooled
By size
