It’s always near the end
that I’m startled into presence—
my morning walk nearly over,
my coffee down to its last sip.
Where have I been? Where did
the middle go? I’ve been asking
all my life. But then what’s ending
shakes me back into my body,
the way autumn calls to you
with its waving yellows
and falling reds: “Witness me!”
it seems to shout. “I’m here
only for a moment.”
–From my book, The Wilderness That Bears Your Name
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