A Lesson Of Autumn

Gained knowledge informs the
window view, ordinarily pastoral.

Experience sees,
what a ‘mime-boundary’
reveals,
the transparency itself is glass,
the shadowing, heavy clouds are vapour.

Horizontal leaves
are known to be
afloat on fast moving gas.

Comforts of a well-lit room
separate
from cascading last
leaves of the year. Those
yellowed, browned, reddened
witnesses
end,
are blown to their death,
battered toward decay, by gusted howling
that
vacates the
north
ad nauseum.

This is Shift Season
which recurs,
recurs to be
sung of,
painted,
photographed and
written down again,
deja.

Each year,
here we return,
though never to the same place
of times ever
before,
earth and sun and season
all move together
along fate’s immense
line
through space with time.

There exists:
experience,
a changeing sameness
and new views that shall
become knowledge

until time stops,
which
it will.

I know the lessons of Autumn.