(C) R.L.K.
The mood is more than autumnal now; the day's
rain fizzles out, the wind chimes sound a faint
note. Alone on the porch, you consider how
softly the brown leaves have fallen and settled
on the gray stairs. You recall that once
this quiet hour would have marked the end
of a big day with many things done. But
that was then, and time, somehow, shrinks
as we get older. We don't know where it goes,
and now, what happens - rain fizzling, chimes
sounding, leaves falling - hardly happens at all.
