This is a lush country
verdant in the balmy season
though now it is autumn

foliage rioting in celebration
a carnival of color. The Last Hurrah
Maybe they know.

Leaves tenacious hang by a finger
until at last the inexorable tug of gravity
pulls them earthward.

Days are short
Winter approaches
The moon darkens

Seasons, solstices, flutter down
and lie about my feet. I kick them like dry leaves.
Gravity weighs heavily. Things fall away

Hair. The flesh sags. I go to Florida, get
a tan, don a necktie electric blue and grass-green
pants. Celebrate the Last Hurrah.