Early Fall

A méditation on change

Even as the summer heat

Persists,

The first daubs of autumn

Are showing on the trees,

Much as the strands of silver

Began to appear in my middle

Aged beard years ago.

Odd how that sign was greeted

With some alarm,

While these are seen simply

As a part of the way things

Are.

One was perceived as the mark

Of mortality,

The other as the indication of

Natural change,

For at some level I believe my body

Is me, and death is an aberration.

My salvation will be that I may come

At last to disabuse myself of both of

These notions.

Author's Note

When I wrote the rough draft of this one yesterday afternoon, the temperature was ninety degrees, but the first splotches of brown and yellow were visible in many trees.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

The first gold leaves are appearing on my silver birch tree. It won't take long for the numbers to multiply. I am reminded of when my first silver hair appeared. Unwelcome at first, but now very much a part of me and multiplying, but at an acceptable pace. I don't feel as though I am in a state of decay yet. Good write John.

Chris

[John the Baptist]

Thanks, Chris. Indeed, your silver is quite becoming.

[Dave Brown]

I have always loved autumn with its colors and blowing leaves and I know that new growth will reoccur and the cycle will repeat
I am resigned to my white of beard and the white of remaining hair, and the fact that I am part of a cycle that continues through my seed
But I don't like it
BTW 30-50 cm snow in parts of Alberta

[John the Baptist]

Thanks. It's normal not to like it; just don't indulge in inner resistance to it. Also, please keep the blizzard out there.

[R.E. Ray]

Same colors and conditions here. And, I identify so well with your "strands of silver" phrase. I've not yet accepted the silver, as much as the season changes... perhaps it's because we know what follows the long autumn of human age. For now, I'll enjoy the hot orange.

[John the Baptist]

Thanks. Good policy. Focus on the now.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

As we age, we realize that there is an end. Our time alive is limited. There is an end. We may not know when or how our lives end. But we do know that they will. And if there is an end, then we are limited in what we can do. There is a deadline, with no extensions. We can’t collectively cram and get everything done the night before the due date, either. There are no ordinary moments. And right now can count forever.

[John the Baptist]

Thanks. Indeed, some philosophies hold there is in reality only one eternal now.

[Pete]

i know the feeling. i try to live in 'de nile' without going to Egypt. look on the bright side - we have to rake up the leaves but when our seasons end someone else has to clean up after us ... :)

[John the Baptist]

Thanks. Indeed, thank God for funeral directors.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, change, mortality....my signs much earlier...at 36 hair and beard pitch black....three years later...silver had overtaken.
although the body still seems to be in good shape ..there are signs of my autumn...
but growing old naturally...wish everyone could do that----

j.

[John the Baptist]

Thanks, j. I saw something online about a woman who is still teaching dance at age 100. Change is always happening, but it varies from person to person.

[Laura Kate]

Such a clever parallel you have drawn here John! The idea of autumn 'persisting' despite the heat, age persisting despite youth. The acceptance of mortality I suppose, as a natural change. Death being the natural change. I really enjoyed reading this, the imagery is beautiful, I see fields of green and the sun setting behind autumnal leaves and a lovely man taking a brisk walk through the countryside.
Laura.

[John the Baptist]

Thanks, Laura. Glad you were able to perceive such imagery from the poem. Actually, I was sitting in a car on the edge of what remains of woods threatened by development.

[Kelly Scheppers]

It sounds like you may be experiencing an indian summer. The color variation in the trees is striking, especially when the leaves begin to fall. Seeing that change within ourselves as we grow older leaves us to question our own mortality, of how many autumns are yet to come.

[John the Baptist]

Thanks, Kelly. Actually, I am far past indian summer. My beard is now more the color of a blizzard.

[Kelly Scheppers]

Lol, I love winter!