The Secret

I was wishing

for the long, warm twilight time

and the moon falling into the silver sea

and you and me.

Instead,

from the top of a mountain

the ridges were rounded steps

that fell away behind me

into a river,

with alder tracing its

curving path.

I found something else there,

perfect with its nudging truth

out of my longing.

It was lit with sunshine

and covered in a coat

of many colors and textures,

then staked to the ground

by yucca spikes

that stood erect

in their blooming hold on death

and rebirth.

There was copper and rust,

burnt orange and umber,

all sown together by the plume

of the gray squirrels tail

that darted back and forth

like a living needle.

I could smell the creosote

where the fragrant ground leaked

as sage in soft dusty green

gave reverence to the air

in a prayer for continuance

that I could hear echo

in my heart.

As I stood there

longing for something,

something that I thought summer stole from me

and would not give back,

something that would never be the same again,

autumn covered me with her quilt

so that I would understand how life changes for a reason

and time spreads

its seeds upon the ground to wait.

It whispered across the hill,

its breath as fragrant as

the sweet peas of early spring,
it whispered this secret to me:

Now is really all there is

and now it is autumn.