Away from home,
This Year
Ahead of time,
I caught a glimpse
Of the Red and Yellow
Fall—
So that upon
My return,
She had not yet
Arrived.
Knowing that She
Eventually would come,
I ceased to anticipate,
For I had seen it all.
But
She never appeared
Back in town,
As when She took me
By surprise,
I didn’t recognize Her
At all.
She would make Her stay,
Just like the year before,
But She was not
What I saw
Anymore.
It’s early afternoon;
Gentle sun and silky breeze.
The leaves flutter and
The branches sway,
Together leaving patches
Of shifting, speckled shades
On the pebbled ways.
Sitting on a bench
In the midst of it all—
Friday’s concluding outflow,
Never too different
From its morning influx—
He wondered
If they were just a big,
Unwary herd after all.
Jazz, Jazz—
All that Jazz.
She leaned back and
Watched the daily round,
Where certitude lies
Forever long.