Fall

The world comes into fruition
And all is ripe and beautiful
As we are
and full of passion
Subsiding as the days wax and wane
As the moon to fullness and slivered again
Like my body and the earth
As summer turns
Almost imperceptibly
Into fall
And I am myself
Am again slivered
And full of promise
As if I never were otherwise
days are numbered
a progression
Forward again
But never to be
As passionate or full of certain promise
For some fruits ripen but rarely
And I am myself
Girlish yet
And not so womanly as I once was
Hovering on the edge of fullness
Where we weave a precarious dance
A pattern of desire
And compassion
Rotating willfully
But
All our steps are vacillating
Every step forward a repetition
A circular motion
Waxing and waning
Floating above
Treading lightly
Regressing
and progressing once again
To hover continuously
On that precipice but
Not to fall.

ily, 2002