What can you say of a time:

you’re living in it, breathing it in,

feeling its rhythms and buried

in its cares; and then you stand

back as if given the gift of time

and see it as it is‐-a thing of the

moment, living like a green leaf,

only to dry and fall at the turn

of the year when all things change,

and only the memories remain,

and nought can be relied on except

the flow and ebb of life itself.

 

9/10/2020