Autumn Morning

There is a chill in the mornings—
words spoken hang before you in clouds,
then fade.
Words I say in the heated rooms
stay.
You remember everything
you choose to,
I try to forget.
Still after all these years,
where have we arrived but
back to where we started.
“ ‘round the world having wandered”
should have brought a wisdom.
All I know is the motion and the madness.

We stay still for the first time
and listen…
We hear the thoughts and fears
creep into our minds;
time to doubt,
dwell,
rue,
wonder,
speculate,
and suspect.

The chill reaches into my bones
after the rising sun has warmed the plains,
but the warmth brings the light
so that we may see clearly again.
And look into those same eyes
that never changed,
never will fade.

-G.B.