A Change of Season

So much depends on autumn afternoons, 
spent in comfoprtable chairs, 
with a cup of coffee and a good book, 
while Elsa sniffs the air with her head tilted back and then settles into her spot on the couch. 

So much depends on the soft candle light, 
the rosary I pray, 
meditating and striving ot know God, 
asking for the courage to be his witness. 

So much depends on the sleep gotten after a long and relaxing day of reading, 
then on to the bed with the fan to cool off, 
any dreams that might lead to distress. 

So much depends on the memory of that house in New Jersey, 
the dinners cooked in that kitchen, 
sharing more than food, 
making memories that will last a lifetime. 

So much depends on all memories, 
remembered and reliv ed, 
those who are here, remembering those whow have gone, 
again and again, 
bringing them back to partake in our lives once more.

So much depends on what is to come, 
when there are new ones to bear our names and resemblance to our faces. 

Funny, how I always wanted to go back to those quiet afternoons, 
those quiet breakfasts and lazy evenings, 
to go back to when they were not so independent, 
to read books in my chair and to listen to their stories about adventures in the woods behind the house. 

(since developed and now without charm or adventures.) 

So much depends on watching the summer fade, 
like those storms that are created by winds that meet int he middle, 
creating all that havoc.

Those pictures on the wall are people from long ago, 
no more baby faces, 
now women's faces, 
beautiful and lovely, 
an handsome and masculine, 
dancer features and equestrian elegance. 

(I miss them...) 

In the same way that I miss the laziness of summer, 
once the reality of autumn comes, 
not yet ready for winter, 
(even though I know it always follows Autumn.) 

T. S. Deary 
11/20 - 11/22/24