ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 3
EVERYWHERE
this time of year
when brown fields of cornstalks
stand still and night brings
a singing from the woods every tree
carrying part of the chorus
and gardens ache and wilt
overready and tired
walking and walking
I think back to spring
forward to winter
it's not easy to keep my place
on the path for the hardness
that makes it is spread around
the woods and the dead leaves crumbling
and the weeds retired to their roots
open new paths
also the leaves giving up
to drop early set new ways
of sight under the trees
and the track is now no one place
all places equal and the times
that brought us to this and the ones
we approach come together
days of sun and dry weather
the steps to take through them
opening everywhere