AUTUMN ON THE DOORSTEP

Fragrant with honeysuckle trumpets,

the entwined year waxes.

Catch its essence as you can,

 

for this is not an exact time.

Days already dwindle,

cast longer shadows, settle on

 

their red and amber reckoning.

Every new encounter

is the beginning of goodbye,

 

and I have been going away

for as long as it takes

to trace our lineage in the stars.

 

You might chance on the evidence

in cuttings, between pages;

suppose them the wilful bookmarks 

 

of that ghost father I shall be.

But there’s no need to look:

always, among the gathered moths,

 

you may sense me, lighting weightless

on your sleeve. No more leaves

to fall than once were grown in spring.

 

 

ix. 2023

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