To Be Here Now, Again

To be here now, again–

in this seemingly endstage contemplation,

slowed down after summer’s burst of always fruiting more.

Now–there is a sense of completion growing in the withering of deciduous trees,

a tucking in the covers for a good night’s–

Rest–the resolution–and the consolation prize of sweet slumbering slow silence.

To be here now, again–

to know this is but another round of this cycle, 

yet wallow in the unfinished to-do list of the mind. 

If only I had more–

Time–the race against the hourglass of evolution– 

until spit out again on the other side– 

and then round and round in this cyclical trip,

only with more lived experience and the chance to do it again.

Next time, it will be different.

There’s nothing to do now, but–

Wait–for a sign.

To be here now, again–

to feel this fall-like state of surrender, 

to know nothing anyone does now can stop the leaves from turning color. 

To be here now, again–

to witness the sun take his time to rise on a crisp fall morning when it seems like there's nothing left to do besides reach for another cup of coffee, 

a warm dark facade of vital energy. 

Hang on– 

this is what doing your best looks like this time, 

Now. 

To be here now, again–

feels like the cusp of a reset, the simultaneous powering off and turning on. 

Fall feels like a recurring existential test of faith in Nature.

To be here now, again–

at that moment in which the darkness is an ocean-like horizon–

and it's as if that light had been only a dream?

But that’s no matter now–

Today, the fall wind flows up the hill toward the mountaintop.

Brisk and abrupt messages sting my cheeks as I pull my coat in tighter to protect my neck and exhale.

The sun peeks just over the ridge as I make my way to visit the bees–

but they have gone and left only hives of empty comb.

A hollow sweetness hangs in the air,

a heady reminder of times passed too quickly,

a faint humming vibration despite their absence.

To be here now, again–

This time it’s not a dream, 

or is it? 

It can be hard to tell–sometimes–it can be so hard to tell.

To be here now, again–

to be smothered with defeat–

yet understanding of the process, 

is such a difficult and wonderful place to be–

now.