End Of Summer
The mornings are grey now
no longer bright
and the evening’s cool breeze
though welcome
warns of unremitting chill.
Where is the season of green and gold
that I waited so long for?
It has passed like a dream.
There is nothing of it to remember.
‘
My gut tightens in one moment of stillness
as I ponder plans unfulfilled
projects not accomplished
meals not savored
and words not spoken
laughter never heard.
‘
Is the water already too cold?
Or can I immerse myself once more?
‘
I think, once again,
“There was not enough time”
And know, at last, that even this thought
is incomplete and evanescent.
I am an old man
and have seen too many summers come and go
to rest in the belief that any gift of hours
would soothe this empty ache.
It is not that there isn’t enough time.
It is as the preacher says:
Time is not enough.
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