Remains in the glory of grace as if it were
Possible to be sweeter if it were whole—
The fragment of song, the portion of stone,
The wild-eyed awareness that something’s
Going to give—knowing something’s going
And still you have to live. This is the day,
And you are here, and what there was is
Broken. Is this autumn, this October,
A metaphor for deliberate ripening?
Tell the world what you know; the world
Will know: The trope is magic; I am
The season, the leaf, the loss and the world.