mjbanks@swehttamxam
This time of year when the sun shifts from one horizon to the other, in days shorter than the last faster than the past of shades and shadows, the sun and moon learning to hold hands in the cold light and the long nights, of four seasons fall comes in it’s quarter at winter’s border ushers in the evenings where days of darkness come before our feasts and delights, we watch the leaves turn weak and leather in the daylight farthest reached from distant sunlight in color and Autumn masks, the rains become plenty more than moss can hold, we look to nature as it turns away it’s summer into shades more than can be counted, moreso wells and lakes rebounding filling ground and distant spring, this the worries are resounding as woes of queens and kings, but worry not for songs confounding as the end of seasons harvest brings, for it is these days the world and earth rests, as if rolling into blankets of winter, as we humans crawl over the sleeping soil in ways described by vapid voices and raucous choices have claimed for years a war begun, but without a time of cleansing surely dawn would never come.