Turn and face the sun my friend

the crisp fall hues will wilt and fade –

to hide, to heal, then grow again

my endless faith

where it’s always been.

Listen to the song bird’s ode

there is a wisdom in its truth –

to pass, to feel, so gently known

a thousand things

yet you’re never alone.

So give in to this gold still here

note the honey in its passing –

to say, to deal, in no despair

for colors change

yet never there:

no not this.

not you.

(we’re golden)