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It's been forty years that had passed.
That cool crisp crunch of golden fall,
leaves had turned loose of their hold and spiraled down
leaving no coat to be seen on the bare limbs.
The endless breadth of blue sky had been clearer.
The red crown woodpecker that  perched 
on the bark of a birch tree was much louder then,
the robins sang with a heart of passion.
Once in a while, you'd see a deer
walk up on the front yard with confidence,
and fed on clover amid the green spears of grass.

It surely wasn't a happy time.
They say things happen in threes.
This fall had its lasting imprint.

A friend had lost control of his steering wheel
while he drove home from work.
The car went into a spin and threw him out.
He left behind two children.

My aunt and uncle were on their way home
when a teenage boy had been eluding the police
T-bone them in their Volkswagen beetle.
They died in the impact.

Two weeks later at twenty-one my little sister
without warning was gone of a cerebral hemorrhage.

Kissed by the passing breeze of awakening.
I had just heard a song,
"Wake Me Up When September Ends,"


Come one swallow then its mate, then they all followed.
They gathered in sorrow with a great deal of chatter.
Was it a holiday, with food, drink, and alcohol
They call it, A Day of Celebration of Life.
I just wanted to go back to bed and hide from all the chatter.

Now those days have faded,
But still others have come to take their place.

8/2/2023

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