Changing Times

And now, my friend it’s quiet;
     A single candle burns
          In the center of
               The table,
                    In the kitchen
                        Of my home.

The kettle boils;
     It’s still an hour
          Or so before the birds
               Begin to greet
                    The dawn.

It’s ten for you,
     And four for us –
          There’s silence in our town,
               With not a breath of air
                     To stir the
                          Aspen leaves
                               Across the street.

But cool’s the air
     Of soon-approaching fall;
          The coolness drifts
               In through my open window
                   With its sweet
                         Refreshing
                              Scent.

Most sleep
    Like you –
         Except, unlike these others,
             You’ll wake
                   Life rearranged
                       Within –
                            Without.

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