(x = space)

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Autumn Liturgy

(layperson’s)

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Just a little gray

Is creeping in;

It might turn into

Another color

Later on

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I may say

The point of dawn

Is nearing

Just after the moment

When night and day

Are shared first time

Then several

Hours later

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The week has passed

Its sharing time

As well,

Being Thursday

Counting Sunday

As the first day

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Maybe because

It’s autumn season

There is more

Preoccupation

Over what has passed

Than what is coming

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Summer’s over

Growing’s done

Up here;

We count the harvest

And rely on it

To nourish us through

Winter

When dark is even more pronounced

In shorter daylight days

And longer nights

Even a solstice

For beseeching

Everything we lost

To return again

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It’s all right

To think on loss

Not fun but necessary

So many things are shed,

Leaves off trees

And skin cells

Off our bodies

We lose things

Too many things, we think,

On the course of normalcy

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And yet there is

The lesson of the harvest,

The gaining of so much

To see us through

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The bears do this, of course:

We’ve had fat-week

Pageantry for them

Seeking winners among

The ursae

Who will be readier

For winter rest

Under their stars

Beneath the paler sun

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We need our things

And we should have them;

Things are lost,

And often we must let

Them go

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Gain and lose that is

The way of things

(we gain, we lose);

It has to be all right,

And it is

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C L Couch

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Photo by mana5280 on Unsplash

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