Red Maple Leaves in September
Look at these leaves.., already turned to their blood-red Autumn hue, look at the sky, cold, white as a starched linen sheet, like it could snow. Early this year, but beautiful all the same.
Fall Song ~ by Mary Oliver
Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,
the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back
from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere
Except underfoot, moldering
in the black subterranean castle
of unobservable mysteries ---roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water.
This I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn
flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay ---how everything lives, shifting
from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.