I have restrained myself
from noticing too often
how close this day lies
to the one last year,
how instant the return has been
to this place in the cycle

Fall to fall, time of fruition
to the last one, things accomplished,
things which, though they’ve gone through convolutions,
and many permutations,
seem uncannily the same

I try not to mention how surprised I am
how fast the moon wanes, then is full again,
or note the blip of weekends,
one quick tick after another —
like second hands, they sweep around

As for moments, they seem mostly full
and mostly singular. They don’t roll by
as rapidly as years. That’s why I try
to keep my focus here.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 13, 2014

The coolness of the air
brings sudden autumn,
a memory as strong as taste
of longing, of excitement
for things that might unfold
as they are borne along the quickening
fall of the year into endings
or new beginnings

A taste of bracing challenges
and rising skill that meets them,
the ramping up of inner heat
to warm us through
the passage of the cold
and take us once again
around the turn.

©Wendy Mulhern
Sept 3, 2014