AT THE THRESHOLD

Eheu fugaces labuntur anni

- Horace(65-8 BCE)

Let us seek solace from the past,

take the path to it's changing shadows under the canopy

of half-remembered trees,

the glittering water of a stream emerging,

carrying, polishing pebbles with it's swift movement.

We once kneeled beside it, feeling

it's cold water, but when and where

eludes us, a drifting leaf torn asunder.

The worn hands of time shaping

us as it shaped the landscape around us,

never-tiring, every result

good, complete, perishable;

leaving us with these flakes from the sculpting,

bright, faded.

13.06.2017