The leaves shine like gold
in the long light of autumn,
adrift upon the last breath of summer,
sailing, like kites cut free,
taking their own sweet time
to come at last
to rest.
Years and seasons without number
crunch in their layers
beneath the feet that wander,
among the grey-like-silver trees
that stand and sigh in autumn’s scented air…
as if remembering
the past…
A time there was when trees were silver
and growing leaves were truly gold
and laughter light as lace,
of magic folk, made lyrics for
the music of the streams and breezes…
and Mystery crackled in the air
in every season
endless…
And Elven grace danced everywhere…
and Elven power shaped the Land and Time,
And Names were Named,
and Speech was Taught,
And the night was filled with stars
that sang
and also blessed…
Yet Autumn came for Elven kind,
and for all their works, the silver and gold–
Faded, the woodlands; faded the grace;
breeze sighing without words;
waters running without mirth…
Until we, remembering,
restore them
at last.
2004
LOOSELY SPEAKING... 