Colorado, September

The aspens turn
before summer has finished leaving

one slope already yellow
the next still green

and the cold comes down at night
from the passes

then climbs away before noon
leaving the leaves changed

The high meadows have gone brown
the willows beside the creek
holding their green

a little longer

The elk call in the dark
and the sound goes on
without a year in it

only the turning
and the returning

The leaves let go
without choosing

each one falling
when it falls

Sleep has its own hour

The light enters the canyon
low now

long before evening
the sun already farther away

The spruce keep their green
among the aspens

and the pines

as though color could remain
by refusing the season

The first frost comes
on the September nights

and the grass pales

like a memory
coming after its time

Above timberline
snow falls

and disappears

the mountain already knowing
the rest of it

The river is lower now
clearer

gold leaves passing through it
and going on

toward the valley
where warmth has stayed

Geese cross before dawn

their wings carrying them
toward a direction

that only they know

The mountains remain

and the year moves around them

one color
then another

life beneath all of it
going nowhere