September.
And there's a poem called Sky in September.
In spite of the months of knowing and the years,
autumn comes with astonishment.
Light held up in a glass, the terrible news in a haze.
Caught breath in the warm leaves.
In spite of gathered dust and the vast moon,
the day comes with a color its words cannot touch.
So it is when I see you.
So is the moment when I see you after the years
when the ailanthus leaves drifted unnoticed
down the gray wall.
They have disappeared and nothing is missing.
After their rocking and clinging,
they have vanished with the thieves and shufflers,
and the words of the dealers taking nothing.
They have fallen like scales from the eyes.
And at last, we are here together,
light of autumn, clear morning in the only time.