Through the window all is green
all the flowers are in bloom
all the wild birds sing and preen
as the sun fights off night's gloom.
The seasons turn another page.

A turkey booms just down the hill
hoping to lure a hen his way.
Bullfrogs harrumph from marshy rill
and crickets chirp minutes away.
But inside I just sit and age.

On this side of the windowed wall
autumn reigns despite the date.
Leaves fall as time ticks down the hall.
Inside the hour becomes late
like the third act on some stage.

For shelter I go back in time
to all the autumns of my past
which have accrued like salty rime.
It seems they come and go so fast
inside my timeless temporal cage.

So let the seasons go their way
I'm in the autumn of my years
with winter soon to come in play
uncertain and filled with fears
all of which against I rage.