Perfect imperfect, awareness
Dawns uneasily and
It seems that the ancient
Script says dismiss
Though sometimes it says accept —
Perhaps more awaits an excavation
In the march, Alpha and Omega,
I stop to ask myself:
Did you really need all this
Time that compresses now,
Races to a finish that can't be
Comprehended, just to
Figure out that in the end
It's human nature to regret?
Meanwhile this nature seems to
Right itself into rhythms
So primordial,
So much older than I can
Ever be in my allotted speck that
October runs ruinous morning glories
Over hedges starved for rain
Earlier in this drought,
And honeysuckle climbs like it is
June in a bursting, watered summer
Oh, I know the frost is coming
Just as these blooms take off,
The frost is coming,
That frost I dreaded
And hoped would never
Come has come already and
Now is mine, and
Just as all these
Things arise to boom, and
Despite what colors burst
Atop my pergola and riot
In the autumn ditches,
Now, oh now,
I am turning older.
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