They Also Call It Fall


The Emptying of the Year Photo © Joseph Hesch 2015

My remaining days are disappearing
faster than I can live them.
Blinks of sunup to sundown blur
past like squirrels who steal life
from me as if I was a jagged old oak
and they know maybe next year
might be mine to topple.
Where they scurry and bury
what once was mine to have and hold,
like my memory, I’ll never remember,
let alone reach. Out my window,
I squint at daylight diminishing
with each spin of this emptying world
and realize why they call Autumn,
even the golden autumn of my years,
why they also call it Fall.

3 thoughts on “They Also Call It Fall

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