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RETREAT DAYS

by Charles Carreon

Autumn comes,

colors, greys,

winds.

Scraps, slivers and

Rich expanses of blue sky

Filled with transparent,

beautiful light,

The sun,

floating, liquid

as a reflection in a pond

And all of us

aimless as leaves

scattered by the breeze ...

In love with the time,

the space,

Stretching in every direction

   unmoving.

 

And everything that moves,

Wind, leaves, evergreen boughs,

the sun, the shadows,

Moving in the same direction,

a river flowing steadily

to the mouth of the falls where

each separate thing

takes

the plunge,

dissolving into the roar

as the sun's pure light

breaks open --

A ball of miracles --

Gleaming fragments

fill every eye

with no end of intricacy,

showing

what's hidden inside,

Leaving us

pierced through with wonder,

Transfixed

by something lovely,

clear,

complete.

 

October 16, 1997

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