Monday, September 21, 2015

Full Circle

He is the poet of the world, with tender patience leading by his vision of truth, beauty, and goodness.
Alfred North Whitehead

Full Circle 
by Elece Hollis

So sweetly comes the autumn
With bright berries and multicolor leaves.
The sweetgum was bare, then green, is red, then purple, 
Now orange and finally yellow––lastly bare.

Green stays only in the pines, the fir and holly.
Birds fatten and their feathers begin to show wear.
Spring was here earlier; she excused herself
And headed under-green.

After the acorns, the walnuts, and pecans have fallen
Old men rake leaves from their lawns and burn bonfires
Snow will come drifting softly, whitely down
Something always falling––falling.

We, like the year, come in time, full circle,
We grow from babes, to carefree tots, to teens;
Become parents––then grandparents
Then become again children and finally babes.

Seasons define us, each cradling a limited number of days,
Spring, summer, fall, and winter. 
Days drifting swiftly, softly, silently by––a dream 
We can't remember. A full circle of life.