Be so noted, as it may
my life appears mired in Autumn
if that then be a fault
such fault , is mine alone,
as hot dry days of season Summer
mingle with the sweat of oiled bodies
stretched out in homage to the day

Winter ushers in discontent
or so it was writ ,
whilst Spring , just frippery things
of flowers, vivid colours, virginal awkwardness
tongue-tied young boys, hopeful men

gentle Autumn touches me with its softness
still days , languid nights
tied dragon flies in their dancing moments
weave indelible memories,

so, in the indulgence of hubris
I keep all that surrounds me
love piled in glorious confusion
russet leaves and
red-gold burnish from the promise of that season
for what is a life
other than,
the footprint of hope
from where we have been