Of changing seasons and the heart of man

The weight, the stink of summer sweat

erased, now late, the greening days.

Pursued no more by Spring’s regret,

once come the crisping Autumn ways.

* * * * *

Delivered, fresh, with fondness, fields

that love no more the drawling heat.

Welcome, Autumn’s respite, real,

her daunting face of beauty, sweet.

* * * * *

To smell the winds and wayward sky

is once again one’s place to know.

A speck, a grain, a hollow sigh-

to plant, to seal, to die, to grow.

* * * * *

And underneath her drying skin

are gifts of death, of seedling hope;

entombed, encoffin’d earth, within

the ground, while truth, with life, elope.

* * * * *

And you, O Man, so faint and dull,

where fate and folly freely meet,

your seasons, many, twist and pull-

your grasping, brash; God’s touch, discreet.

* * * * *

Return and taste the Summer gifts

the iridescent, squeamish Fall;

the Winter’s breathless cold uplifts

till Christ, like Spring, will death annul.

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