Fall – by Mary Helen Eggenberger

 

Fall again, and my mind

Vagabond that it is

Takes flight in ragged formation

Like the dark shapes honking

Across the clear ice-blue sky.

Is it the natural sadness of vicarious death

That haunts the chill days?

Falling leaves remind us

Of youth, past lives and loves,

Forgotten paths, neglected dreams.

The fleeting false securities of life

Blind our inner sight and through our tears

Seeing only scars we miss the dormant bud.

 

Who was it said, "All things in their time . . ."

Death is only life turned inside out;

It's holding on, not dying, that brings pain.

Let go and trust the gods to  know the hour.