Season

And now, leaves
are just beginning to droop,
elderberries, overripe, are dropping,
tomatoes have taken on
their late season tang,
and there are apples,
so many apples.

We are between.
It is no longer summer,
not yet autumn-
crisp mornings,
warm afternoons.

I want to take it all in,
this transition,
to observe the leaves’
slow change to yellow
and then the sudden explosion
to red and orange,
their glorious good-bye.

I want to feel
the comfortable melancholy
of the days
leading to winter,
with its own
grey, stark beauty.

I want to be idle enough
to live the seasons
because there were so many years
when I was busy, busy
with what, at the time,
seemed more vital.
(And maybe it was,
I don’t know.)

I was always running,
trying to keep up,
rushing through the world,
blinded by duty and obligation,
catching only glimpses
of the miraculous consistency
of change all around me.

Now, I am in the early autumn
of my life.
I am ready
to walk through this world
more slowly,
more observantly,
living every season.

By Maria Brady-Smith
Photo by Mike Smith