Indian Summer, Part Iii

The winds of Winter wait, Whispering to me of the approaching future, But still far off, biding their time Until this span of light and warmth has lasted out its stay. Meantime, I engage myself in taking stock; Compiling the days that define myself to myself Enlarging the catalog so far as I can, Building up a narrative. So many memories Like fireflies in a Summer's night Flash through the dark spaces of my mind. Childhood: Flash Youth: Flash Young Parenthood: Flash Empty Nest: Flash. Family, friends, events Joys, sorrows, beginnings, endings - All make their flickering passages; All paint their images onto me The particles dance and shift Cells die to be replaced The face in the mirror becomes my father's Molecule by molecule With each passing instant. The particles dance and shift Moving back towards the dark unknown From which they came, Yet somehow in the midst of it The I that was And am And shall be Remains to watch the long parade unfold. And that parade, banal and fantastic, Marches past that inside window where I watch to see myself pass by, As some newer self shall do the same through all tomorrows Until the day when all the marching stops for me - And then, my fellow marchers, O my many, varied Loves, On that last Winter's day, Where will we be, Where will we be? What musics shall we hear? What wonders might we see?