a time of contentment
no longer driven to renew
to refresh the barren places
over-run space
with ripening life
no more driven to dance
at midsummer
in the headlong rush
to fulfillment of destiny
in productivity and accomplishment
unafraid finally
of the chilling season
when life contracts into itself
unsure of another renaissance
or the desire for one
the need for proof evaporates
in the cooling days
as we accept
without the need of praise
the handiworks we have wrought |
