A wealth of light
today, even as we lose
a little from each end.
It has that tender
“so long” cast,
settles on the ground
like resting deer,
ripens berries we never
get to before the birds.
Loss is everywhere
and fall not even here
yet, but more than enough
the trees say,
dropping nuts,
more than you need
the squirrels say
rushing past.
I need to check my pockets.
How is it that
now, of all times,
I feel so well-to-do?
S. Robbins, Sep 17, 2020, from Readings

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