November 15: Ample Time Day

 

How Quickly I Shall Follow

 

They float and flutter to the ground, these brown

and brittle remnants of a former life,

a life of quietude, devoid of strife,

adorned and flattered in a gaudy gown

of green, a lover's summer canopy,

until the chill of autumn numbs the trees,

and puzzled leaflets wither in the breeze

and hurry down in helpless modesty.

 

So, too, the days that seemed to never end

for me are swept away on eagle's wings,

with passing dawns increasing speed in blurs

and echoes, daring me to comprehend

the curse of Time, that even saints and kings

are laid too quickly in their sepulchres.