August #21

can you feel the onward rush,
the moving thrush,
the steady wind
and whispered sin
that comes with fall?
for don't we all
know too well the joy
that comes within,
when we see the bringing-in
of life and green and fresh?
when spring arrives we gladly mesh
with chicks and eggs,
wobbly horse on feeble legs,
with youth and golden days.
but we love life's dregs,
the age, the ways
that fall forces us to watch our pace
and we slow to lie in wait
for snow and the cold-hearted fates.
we rush to fall with blowing wind,
like the wind blows dry leaves in.
instead of brushing out the old
we revel in the signs of cold,
we do not clean but we count
the days until the snow can mount,
pile upon pile, to lock us in,
leaving us in our guilty sin -
the sin that makes us love our fall
much more than spring, and flower's call.