How well I know my seasons, and in my comings and in my goings
I know too well the weight of the ponderous footsteps that stand me still
There were swans in the spring and borzoi in the summer that were beautiful.
I remember them well. I was happy then!
Today I walk among my new friends, autumn’s weeds, photographing them to remember you by
They came upon me suddenly when I least expected to need them
And I water them with my tears.
As the blue skies of summer turn to autumn’s gray
I behold your perfect body in my view, your preciousness, my life love!
But only my hound is constant
And your failure to be true to very tiny things,
So little as not to be even visible so softly as not to be even heard
Turns my blood to poison.
That is, you can only turn and vanish like a ghost in September.