The Summer is done and gone, and blowing away on September breezes.
Aren't we all returned to this place--
Eyes lit with concentration and dark with passing--
To re-light the hearthfires banked, dusty in the Autumn?
Welcome home we ragged travellers, a place new-made
Here again, and again in the recurrence of its people;
The spring re-fed from lost and
(
Read more... )