He lies inside the greengold morninglight and slowly
Feels his body wake. The old dog whines her greeting.
Somewhere a car coughs into life. Another day.
One more day flushed birdlike from its cover,
Winged from his unconsciousness, sent rushing to the sky.
Window-wrapped in dawn's revelation, he shivers. Outside
The yellow leaves tremble in approaching winds of winter. They
Will break their stems and drift, bodies exhausted, used and useless,
Their sap drained away and returned into the somber tree,
Waiting through forever winter for spring to come again.
The numbered ways of calendar days are strange to him now.
Sun and cloud and yellow leaves keep count in their own ways--
It does not touch him. He is suspended, breathing, lighter and lighter.
Separation. One more soul drains sap into the Fathertree,
Waiting through forever winter for spring to come again.
Leaving by Judy Schilling
