Like Mist on the Mountains

 

 

Autumn’s child
         this leaf that’s pillowed on the air,
         a moment’s falling star with  springtime 
         behind it and summer now done

A sigh
         this second of September flame
         to be stored in the heart, kept alive in the mind
         though ever so brief its sparkling time

Suspended
          on the cool breath of fall, when the vines
          are all dying, it has touched us forever
          without leaving a scar.