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