fall's falls

The fall falls across the earth
in different measure, everything
changes in time, and a season here
is someone else's new spring.

I watch out windows for the breeze,
the signs of some cool change,
some new color on the trees
or hues so bright and strange.

The fall falls in all these ways,
all these days, and leaves drop
softly when they're tossed:
the frost, the snow, no stop

until the winter's here, and year's
closed out once the summer's gone
and Autumn's chilly hand brief
and still, and fallen with a yawn

of change in all its normal breaths,
all its standard depths, lets leaves
be covered by the cold, thick snow
goes back to earth, and weaves

the seasons forward all the time,
mercury lowered, and all silenced
to the rhythm of this world.
Where all could feel against,

none are fenced in by the cold,
but are, in fact, receiving now,
and lifted in a way, this day,
even as the fall keeps falling,

falling down.