Harvest

 

To arrive at a place

I have known before

 

down the road

I did not take;

 

August turns to

autumn chill

 

combine harvests

golden grain

 

& the glow of

eclipsed moon

 

crosses the ancient

valley.

 

To know so much

I did not know

 

& yet little changes.

 

The shadow of a smile

in another’s eye

 

a small child’s footsteps.

 

To arrive at this place

& know it for

 

the first time.

 

The beloved offers

a single rose:

 

white like naked page,

yellowed now

 

with time & age;

a mystery still glimpsed

 

the stage empty.

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