Resonance

Summer bows to Fall 

The air begins to focus 

Calm, cool, crisp, clear 

Something lost grows closer

to my bones, my marrow --

just as I,

anemic with nightmares and their shadows,

feel my strength

draining away. 

Only a fool

loses strength

for no reason at all. 

But the air is keen,

the air is sharp;

and, now and then,

I dare to dream

that dignity will return.