To/Through Autumn

To Autumn, one once wrote

Knowing a cold end was coming

As it had before

I am no stranger to this feeling

I, too have felt it before

And yet

I can never bring myself

To prevent its gelid promise

From perturbing my peace

Even now, as warmth still kisses my skin

And for maybe the first time I am happy,

At times through autumn I am helpless to hear

The laughs of dear friends,

And the grace of their kindness

As the coming stillness robs me of sound

It is not yet my time to mourn, so

Why must happiness sting with melancholy?

Where are the songs of spring?