Season before Fall
I stand on this hill and time stands with me
As people go flashing by liken ants at the nest
A few say hello, some stop to say hi.
And the birds shall come from the cool northern skies,
How they dart, how they fly, dancing in this summer sunrise.
Parks and paths filled with all who are able,
Fruit and seeds, a late evening tale.
The flight of owl at end as the night turns to day,
Drifting scent of the rose, not seen by this weak morning light.
The leaves, they don’t fall, for they are rich and worth keeping,
While warm rays from the stars, no weeping, no weeping.
For the brown and the dark, it will come at a call,
But not before we live through The Season before The Fall.
Steve Whitacre April 27th 2010