The days spiral into summer
despite my feeling
that the spring is unwound,
that we’re done with cycles,
now catapulting off in some unknown direction,
no longer able
to predict anything

Yet I already can feel
the rolling into fall, feel the prick
of cool upon my skin, the smell
of turning leaves

I just don’t know in what way
we’ll be there with them,
whether we’ll be able to pull our feet
into the capsule and shut the door
so as to be along for the ride.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 29, 2020