Nothing can stand still. If it were to do so
absolutely, I could not see it; if I
were to cease scanning, I could not then see;
therefore change is all. These were my thoughts
as I walked our dog, watching a year run down.
Apples were falling; I chose one to eat.
Hips blushed fiercely; I stuffed my pockets full.
Ash and maple and willow turned and turned.
Restless mice and voles risked their all
for seeds. We reached the river; a trout rose, an
osprey plunged; they met and rose as one.
An osprey will turn a trout head first in flight,
you know -- for improved aerodynamics. I
disbelieve it; surely the bird is kind.