The Gift of November

Now that leaves have fallen off the trees,
now when what little daylight we have shines clear and low,
now is the time to take a wander through the woods.

For our vision is unobstructed:
We can see clean through the crowded city of trees.
Our view unhampered by leaves,
which instead of greening above and around us
crunch brownly and satisfactorily under our feet.

Is this what happens with aging? Our bodies bereft of beauty, and, while no one pays attention to our gray and wrinkly form, we see clearly with new eyes. Finally, we glimpse through our decades of delusion. Life unfolding, ever-changing, ever-stressful. And i--so changed in outward appearance from what i was in the springtime of my life--is this still "me"?

The light of day hurries southward.
The "light" in our eyes dims to indistinctness.
And the world becomes soft.