Mercifully, summer does not die
All at once into winter.
Leaves of a thousand hues
Of reds, oranges, yellows --
And one must not forget
The golds and browns --
Give us time to get used to the idea. 

The cottonwood and maple
Do not jut naked into the sky,
Stripped suddenly of their leaves.
The holes between the branches
Grow gradually, as wind and rain
Do their autumn work. 

I tell myself that nature
Is supposed to be this way,
As I grasp at metaphors
The way I grasp at leaves
As they float downward
To the inevitable earth. 

Sometimes, just sometimes,
Autumn is sufficient preparation
For the winter to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

by HF Stein      for D.L.

Dying into Winter