Visitors
Very few leaves yet cling to the trees
Fallen, collected, disturbed by a breeze;
My breath in suspension, it hovers distilled
In the air by the temperature suddenly chilled.
The sand cranes are gathering in clustering flocks,
Are moved by the rhythms of ethereal clocks,
In search of a habitat kinder to meet
The needs of the many that converge in retreat.
Their chattering, nattering company greets
The forest of foraging beasts that it meets;
A final salute to the summer they've spent
Sharing their time with the time I have lent.
Like infrequent visits from a soldier you know
Who's come through the battles you've fought toe-to-toe,
They drift to the shores of memory's sea,
In absence to pale yet clinging to me.