Autumn, yellow

End of summer – now,
an early autumn.
Every morning, more yellow leaves
on the birch I watch to
mark the seasons.

Do you feel it, too? I ask, silent,
the silent branches.

With my senses I note passages:
another wrinkle,
calendar pages, turning quickly,
a certain fragrance – summer gone, fall here.

I watch the wind in your branches, longing:
Do you know it, too?

My companion:
together, we are moving quickly,
through time.

—meb 09/2016