Be But One of Twelve

Fortuitous, my errant self arose upon yon glen, my mellow eyes favor tawny giants teeming with varied life, nesting, crawling, climbing, perched or flying gracefully aloft, same endless dreamers. Shrubs near wandering stream flourish, touching grassy meadows and flowery hued fields, where lurks mass of bugs, neath earth, or above, albeit, they must stay hidden because they are near the bottom of the food chain. Chance arrived as held memories motions around, naught tinkering but flashing by with the familiar faces that worn some, same as structures around this grand quaint town but aged me, always a young boy will be. A young September and I started work half a century ago, deadlines for glens, piled papers are tawny, scrambled shoe naught crawl, perching on breaks and often daydreamers are caught, monitored always. This be the way it was a lifetime pass, retired September whence I had begun, lost I, many September, since, begs the question, so much ground to be recovered, is there justified sand in my hourglass? 2019 October 31