Fall

Fall

The sun is burning sharply

through the scattered branches of a maple.

The evening breeze swathes lightly

around our necks like scarves, as light is chased

out of a magnificent country.

These last days of warmth remind us, 
every sunrise has a sunset 
every summer has a fall;

yet longing will not restore the golden hues.

Fall does not come to teach us

how to be cold;
the rising sun cannot teach us

how to be warm.

The last warm days
are like an embrace

ending far too shortly.
Happiness is not here to stay: 

but joy can rap at the door

when winter has overstayed its welcome,

when sunlight cannot pierce the cold dark.
While every day cannot be warm
a man can burn resolute everyday.