Hedge weather

There was a time for saying things.

And if the words were left unsaid,
and if the paths were never taken,
maybe our green summertime
for saying things has passed.
It’s autumn now and far too late.

Pick up the scattered leaves
and we might store them, brittle, dry.
Or we could make a bonfire of them,
watch them drift to aromatic smoke.

And set them free.

(from Between the Words)