Summer was gone and the heat died down
and Autumn reached for her golden crown
I looked behind as I heard a sigh,
but this was the time of no reply.
I left work yesterday evening and didn't feel like descending immediately to the bowels of Park Street. So instead I took a little stroll along to the next closest station. The air was cool on my legs, neck, in my nostrils. The world had shifted somehow, the first positioning of its thoughts, the first inward breath. In a few weeks, it will exhale that gust and begin to spew Autumn all over us in dazzling oranges, crimsons, and golds.
The realization filled me with a familiar sorrow whose source escapes definition, remains unknown to me.
It might just be the relentless march of time.
My whole life I have felt everything passing by like trying to catch a tumbling leaf, like straining to remember a scent that is absent from you, like sand through your fingers. And while I look forward to the the future with hope and excitement, while I enjoy the sensation of the grains on my palms as they pass, I cannot help mourning what is gone forever.