First you catch up with the past

First you catch up with the past
then it overtakes you,
breathes in a need for movement:
autumns all at once.

It cannot arrive
soon enough,
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.

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