The sorrowful descent has begun.
Does the hawthorn mourn its haws,
Its fruiting work finished?
Does the ash cry out “Don’t leave me!”
To its leaves?
Do the redundant wasp and the tattered butterfly
Know their lifespans are fast ending?
Do they accept, lament, or resist?
Does the robin rage, like me, against the advancing night?
Do the ings sigh with relief as land and rain unite?
Do fungi dance for joy that their time at last has come?
Do skeins of geese call overhead in celebration of movement?
My sorrowful descent has begun.
Am I alone in my dark season sadness?
by Catherine Djimramadji
Note from poet: A seasonal poem, though not entirely representative of my own feelings. Though I do sense that sadness at times, I’ve also come to embrace the dying, decaying and renewing aspect of this time of year.