Night. Fall.

Night. Fall.
 
Cycles
still roll round
after all these years.
More slowly, though,
more in tune with seasons
than with phases
of the moon
or friends.
 
Rolling now towards
that narrow gate,
dark and guarded
by the longer nights.
I don’t wish the time away.
The sun is at my back
but will rise up before me
soon enough.
Let dream and dark and cold
do their unraveling work
in their unravelling season.
They know, better than I,
how to move the story forward.
 
 
S. Robbins, Sept 2, 2020 from Readings

1 Comments on “Night. Fall.”

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