This thou perceiv’st which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
(“Sonnet 73”, William Shakespeare)
The mergansers are leaving,
The cove quiet now.
Ninety-five here last week
Orange plumes descending,
We stepped away from our morning reading
To see what the fuss was all about.
To count how many
As if in the counting the wonder might be contained
The memory captured for safe keeping
In this quick passage of autumn days.
The leaves orange and red
So quickly fall
The beloved old cat soon die
Who lies watching the stream
Wondering if there is anything on the other side
worth wandering over to see.