Late November

In the woods where we fled in summer’s heat
Autumn now lies heavy on the land
Not in that crisp, delighted way of first October
Where every leaf wears its brightest dress.
It is a dreary, sodden fall, with only browns and grays
Lining the fields and paths
The mad rush of May that glamored it with veils of softest green
Now fled to shadows.
Ugly things sulk behind the trees
Where once spring elves danced, almost in our sight.

Spring is forgotten, and summer seems a dream that passed
While I struggled to rise from slumber.
I know the winter comes, yet I linger
For in this damp and sullen woods,
The frilly green things of youth that once obscured my vision
Lie trodden and crumpled on the ground.
Exposing the bare bones of the forest.

I think for a moment I perceive some truth concerning all things natural,
Like sky and earth and air, and lives lived and wasted.
But now I wonder,
Was life only about us lying in the green woods,
With no other thought than joy,
And my long hair falling in happy disarray
Across your bare chest.
2001