Time Marches On

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower

Albert Camus

I haven’t written lately. I have missed it and I hope some of you have also. Here is a poem I wrote this morning:

It’s hard to accept 
that autumn is near,
With leaves splashed with color,
Days crisp and clear.

“The older I get,
the faster time goes.”
So said my mother,
In days long ago.

You stash Christmas ornaments,
Settle in for winter’s blast.
By the time you’ve gotten used to it.
It’s time to mow the grass!

it’s hard to stay in the moment,
Try to enjoy it as it appears.
Soon enough, now becomes then,
Suddenly days become years.