We walk the seashore—as we always do—
and pause, taking in the recent changes:
the sky is water-colored deeper blue,
and you and I—we briefly note our ages.
The waves are colder, sand is mirror smooth.
Gone are children’s footprints, and their laughter
mere echoes, now that they’ve returned to school.
They rush to age, while we wish we could linger.
But autumn finds us here, growing older,
accepting longer shadows in our eyes,
believing reefs and boulders we climb over
bring us closer to becoming wise.
Like a gentle teacher, autumn guides
us by the hand, through time and shifting tides.