The Shaker of Trees

(for Mark T)

The cool forest is my cathedral.
Autumn leaves fall,
abandoning bough and branch
they stain the glassy pond below
each a sermon, a story of bud and bloom,
of green springs and the rich colors of decay.

Birds bear witness to the falling,
harmonies and hymnals, sung in a round,
an ambient concert, a day song,
testimony to breezes and the unseen hand,
the shaker of trees.

passing time till time passes away

a mindless smile returned to expectations
a standard suit in which to face the day
studied steps require no rehearsal
passing time till time passes away

passing time till time passes away
no cause, no valued prizes to obtain
a pantry full, a trophy on the mantel
to wake again means only to maintain

to wake again means only to maintain
get up, get dressed, get going on your way
no sooner done, no sooner comes the morrow
passing time till time passes away

passing time till time passes away
an hour, a year, a lifetime capped with grey
a bent back and a belly for a burden
weightlessness itself begins to weigh