Fall was here today, in cool air
In red and yellow leaf skeins down the hills
In lawns now green after summer's broiling
In quiet streets void of children, school-bound of late
How lovely these early portents of coming cold barrenness
As are the first frosty hairs of life's peaceful middle
Offspring having arrived at civility in comportment and conversation
House equity and waistlines now more substantial
Yet over all hangs temporality's silent bell-toll
Each season asking the questions more loudly
To what have we come and to what do we go?
And why must the sweet seasons taste of finality?
Some speak of their readiness for last things
Waxing philosophical before headstones
No mystery or darkness await them around any coming corner
Bible and brain having wrought a comprehensive security
Others remain more circumspect, shifting in seats and craning necks
Wondering if anything is quite as apprehended
Looking more intently for handholds
As the floor becomes slicker
Declining bromide, they listen for shout or squeak, anything from the other side
Even a faintly declarative hand waving above the horizon's edge
Something actual to energize
As they push on their halting, lurching way
However true it is that spring follows winter on this ancient ball
What guarantees any such to be precedent in the larger province?
No what, but a who it must be, one who takes the essential persons by the hand
And speaks covenantal words into their moments—for this one some peer into dimming day
The one who has tasted and tamed the three, they importune
Come back and speak of life, death, and life
For that one alone they listen as their clocks tick more faintly
Interfering less with the hearing of deeper words that did not begin and will not end
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