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.