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This evening as I walked, the same scene
presented itself as all those years ago,
when in childhood I witnessed the setting sun
profusely gilding the leaves, fascinating the eye.
The same scene I recall of ten, twenty years ago,
I had walked here, a visionary of what
were contemplated projects, though much
achieved, I feel the living now extends.
What if I had died? So much projected
along this same path in full vision
of these hundred-year old oaks, transparent
as the air, would be yet fulfilled in fate.
This evening, redolent with memory,
is no occasion for regrets, or plans; the fact
I breathe, though it expand into dimensions:
absence is my true prospect of time. |
