In a time when the dew was fresh
and the leaves were new,
I anticipated with delight
the fading slanted sun of fall.
Now as the shadows stretch across the lawn,
the maple is red and the leaves spiral
to rest on their sister leaves who have gone before.
I find myself looking forward to a garden
and the young soft light of spring.
My thoughts turn to a season familiar but long removed,
and my awareness is heightened with the turning.