At Last

When, in the autumn,
The laden trees bow down, heavy
With rain, they discover
A final, heady
Moment to share, before
Winter comes at last;

Spring seems long ago,
And, yet, all the well-tried boughs
Make no distinction:
Their buds once opened up
To anyone, showing it was
Light that made them green;

But men and women
Are so lost in transactions,
They've all forgotten
How to care; when cash
And flesh are absent, so are
Admiring glances;

Urgent conversations
On phones are not overheard,
Beneath the stark trees,
Bared by howling winds,
While we shop for last chances:
Losing sight of love.

When, in the autumn,
The laden trees bow down, heavy
With rain, they discover
A final, heady
Moment to share before
Winter comes at last.