Fall. Falling with the autumn leaves
Is Summer’s joy.
Floating in with the bereaved,
Floating with poise,
Winter. Winning over Fall’s beauty.
Fall has no choice.
“What about the hope of Spring?”
—a ghostly voice.
“What about the hope of Spring?”
—a beleaguered cry.
“Without death, can Spring bring life?”
—a faint reply.
“Can Spring redeem the loss of time?”
—a shrug and sigh.
“I am the Spring and I am Life! . . .
I am Time.”
