Snow is falling on the yellow leaves
And blowing across the nodding yellowing
And green leaves that have yet to fall. This
Is the third day in a row the sun
Has hidden as it rose if indeed it did rise
& it must have risen though I know in the pit
Of my guts with everything we’re doing here
The earth’s rotation is bound, too, to change
Not just the career of its seasons, the grief
& outrage of our relations. I have
Speculated before that certain enduring
Traditions, many of them called hermetic
Emerged specifically and only because a disciplined
And determined few were forced in on themselves
While being