Late summer’s limpid sunlight blessings;
Light so pale it almost falls
As shadow in the yard.
A time of change.
I lift a fallen leaf.
Tiny, curling inward in my palm.
Stroke its crackled empty veins
As if that could restore its place
In summer's roaring plethora of green.
Oh I am too much in, and of, my words.
Did I need the ‘green’ in that last line?
Or ‘plethora’?
And I never touched a single leaf.
It was, and is, a lie.
No
The words with which I write your life and mine
Can define us for a time.
And for a time they may be right.
But unruly days are rolling down
Bewildering
Blustery truths.
—----------------------------------------------
Accumulated tiny shocks of dissolution.
The falling tetris cloud of
Shapes of life
That fit nothing on the screen.
Where exhausted pixels
Show the fading afterimage of the years.
No words within my homestead waiting  
That can rhyme, welcome or even say ‘I know’.
No answers to the liberation of bewilderment



—---------------------------------
“Good evening. I am Time.”
An attentive partner,
Dancing with you, Strong.  
Almost overwhelming.
He will forever search you out.
Never let you go.
Until your eyes must close.
Companion to and of the end.
And then
The quiet chapel with the
Yellow unlit candles. Cold.
And a window where the glass
is gone.

Not so
not so
not so.
Said the gentle mocking laughter of the wind.
Outside.
You see me, and I am always there
And so
And so
Are you.
Yes.
But then the slow realisation that it is the emptiness
That is the truth
And then the knowing smile.