When the reeds begin to sing their rustling song of early Fall
the geese know it is time to prepare for their pilgrimage south.
The images of the day
roll across the river’s surface.
A moving picture that will only show once.
Shoulder high your flowers grow
row after row
awaiting their service of solace or celebration.
Seek shelter from the gathering storm.
Let faith be a blanket that keeps you warm.
I will pick a bouquet
of rosemary, sage, thyme and lemon grass
to honor and adorn tonight’s chicken.
When the present arrives
suddenly and surely like a train
the past is left behind
and the future is forever before us.
Nestled against the mountain,
tucked beneath a tree,
only the residents know the way in.