Gwen and I enjoyed going for a walk together; especially this time of the year, on a clear, crisp autumn day. We'd amble along, kicking the leaves and talking about the things people who love being married talk about. As I'm writing this the sun is breaking through some clouds and shining bright through the oak tree in the back yard. It is beginning to look a bit barren even though oaks are stubborn and hold onto their leaves for a long time. I can imagine them standing tall in golden glory and lording it over the naked maples. Nature has a way of keeping things in balance, and, in the spring, the oaks and maples will be equal. This poem is about that:
WHAT LIES AHEAD
The signs are everywhere:
purple asters in fading bloom
leaves gather on the lawn
jeans replace shorts
the smell of fireplace smoke
south-bound geese honking overhead
the taste of cider and donuts.
These signs of approaching winter
were welcomed by us
as we strolled through
quickly-darkening fall evenings
holding hands like school children
warmed against the early chill
by the certainty of our love.
This October is different,
the chill in the air fills my heart.
I do not welcome what lies ahead
on that November day
when we no longer owned the world.
I take some comfort, Dear, in knowing that, faith aside, even nature tells us that temporary beauty must pass away in order for a more beautiful new life to emerge.
2 comments:
Oh John, what a enchanting and oh so very real poem. It moved me.
John nice to see you again. Very very lovely and so very true. Thanks for sharing.
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