The early fall sun warms everything in its golden glow,
the sky – an already impossible blue –
is rendered bluer still,
than at any other time of year;
its blueness is pervasive,
a limitless ceiling arcing over the city and the day,
filling my eyes and deepening my breath,
and against it,
the leaves in their firery glory
every tiny detail magnified to perfection
so that veins and vessels are visible from a distance.
The damp leaves already on the ground
release their earthy fragrance
into the warm air,
perfuming the moment.
The last of the flowers – gold and purple and white –
will bloom hardily until the snow falls,
grasping tightly at a season already past.
they remind me of something;
a memory I can’t quite uncover.
It tastes of other late summers
near fields and lakes and trees,
of home, a home I used to know,
and family together.
I can almost hear my mother’s voice
calling through gardens,
floating down the decades,
till it reaches me here,
on this fall day,
bringing with it those feelings
of long ago,
and gathering up all the other autumns
we have passed along the way.
becomes part of the legacy
so that I will smell and taste it, too,
for years to come.