Updated: Nov 7, 2019
The day grows late and the sun has resolved to retire
Among the hills that shelter it
From the cold isolation of night.
I dreamt about the days of our infancy
When our new frame was feeble
Our legs uncertain
Like the limbs of a day old calf.
Did the seasons know then that the leaves would grow tired
From fresh greens to golden to deep red
Our legs would grow strong
And our only heart would beat confidently
To a singular tune?
Can the vine ripened fruits
And the cold northern winds
Sing us a sweet song
About the end of our seasons
Or reveal to us a place
Where we will shiver in unison
Shaken by the winters weighty temper
Heartened; enriched by the shield of time.