New Autumns

Each year of life presents us with

new Autumns.

For every minute we live,

it is inevitable that change will

come, like leaves falling, after their

burst of Fall color and dormancy.

For some, there is only a final

Autumn, a last change into dormancy,

before a revival of color though whichever

faith, culture or belief allows, adheres or

expounds.  In which we find solace until

the Spring.

The mingled Autumns that persist with

the living and paused Autumns of the dead,

rapt in each other in a seasonal cycle,

driven by nature’s desires to replenish, renew,

remake and re-spark. To make a mark in

the mind, in the heart and soul.

Autumns are quickly forgotten in the

brisk Winter winds, the snow drifts up to

your knees, the Spring melt and rains,

and the long hot days of Summer. Fall

is all about  change and we have a hard time

remembering or even liking change.

The steady Summer sun, the refreshing Spring scents,

the dastardly depressions of Winter, burn brightly

in our minds, yet Autumn is glossed over since it

reminds us too much of endings. We don’t want to see

these endings as beginnings of a new stage, a new life.

We don’t like the visual, visceral, passage of time.

Yet, each Autumn comes and it takes from us. It

hides the dead in promises of life renewed, and we,

mistrustful of those promises, we scowl, we cry and

we mourn. We fear the rebirth because of our

pessimisms, and terror of our own final Autumn.

Yet it will come, death and life, budding and blooming.