Between the Stone House and Dirt Road

 the promise we have

sun and shadows play

in different spaces now,

their schedules the same,

our place in time rearranged

the neighbor's bean fields sway,

a giant gypsy belt, 

rolling in golden spangles

between the determined green

of surrounding pasture and trees

flecks of red,

orange, yellow

begin to decorate the lawn

as the tips of the tall maple fellows

between the stone house and dirt road

let a beautiful rainbowed yawn

escape 

and the sky takes 

on a shade

that betrays the truth

of the time

whose arrival

we're perhaps not yet ready

to accept

(but clouds don't look like that

any other time of year)

here
we are
again
there are sentimentals like me
even among the tangle of green -
their roots, unseen,
keep them resolutely in place,
determinedly reaching up still,
turning up, even now, their face
and taking in
every drop of sun
that runs over the brim
of last season into now
somehow
time passed
and though we know
for life to last
yesterday must bow
to the unknown of tomorrow,
with the promise we have
of only today
it is difficult to say
the places where these moments divide,
what new corner they find
where they can hide
until, quietly and suddenly
they have metamorphosed
from now
into that place so near and far from here, Memory

perhaps that's why
the sun and shadows seem to shift
as one season lifts
and the next descends,
dancing together
imperceptibly
so we cannot see
where one begins
and where one ends,
they have made friends
with Now
and agreed to let it hide behind them
when it is ready to stop being Today



towering sunflowers sway,
tired arms droop,
faces dim and lower,
and graceful,
they quietly cede
to the owners
of this new season







but zinnias in every shade shout "Treason!"
and defiantly remain
tall and proud
above the vines that have brought forth
some of this new Today's superstars:
pumpkins splash a large and heavy and loud
pattern across the tired garden patch,
that yields to the will of weeds
as this new Today continues to hatch
and bring with it
it's own glory days

sprays
of eager raspberry arms
now conquer the northwest corner,
stretching out their gifts
like sweet fleeting rubies

kale stands, patient and green,
and knows
only if it stands through
the inevitable cold that waits
somewhere between
a future Tomorrow and Today,
will it be able to offer itself
at it's sweetest
tiny baas still greet us
from happy mouths
on growing faces

and as this Today chases
the last one away,
i make the effort to stay
aware
of the infinite nature
of just this moment,
and feel small,
yet comforted,
as it all
continues to flow,
unstoppable, always changing,
each one new,
but yet somehow the same

and i am so humbled
to have been made
a part of it
the start of it
so far away,
the end
so beyond sight
there is day,
and then night,
and then again
and again,
again

and exactly when
one becomes the other,
and looks so different
and yet somehow the same
as the last,
i can't decipher
but i am ready
to let go
of both
tomorrow
and what is past
and accept
this new Today
just the way
it is
and for it, lift
my face and my arms in thanks,
for it is indeed good,
this Today,
this gift.