First you catch up with the past
then it overtakes you,
breathes in a need for movement:
autumns all at once.
It cannot arrive
with the rush to escape,
yearning to retrieve
knowing never quite again what was.
Irrepressible phrases, traces
left like accidental knee-marks
by artists embracing the canvas
Bending at the intersection of years where
signature stain, a flourish beyond words,
valleys restored to verdant bloom and rivers
turning cartwheels, laughing as leaves might.
The hours around hours,
before sunset and after
monuments to moments or just
a nod, a shake, a glance.