The Turning In of the Year

I rest on a causeway between sundown and night,

I an old man at a turning in

Turning of autumn to winter

A turning of seasons.

Below me the farm at rest, around me the land

And the earth growing cold once more -

I recall my youth, how I thrust the share

Through the morning clay, sprayed hopeful seeds

And thought the wind always to hold behind me.

They fell to field over broken ground

Whored by the passing of storms

Woo'd by the eager and ardent winds

And true love showers.

I feel the first frosts on abandoned acres

A few buried stones and a darkening sky

Time to come in now, time to turn in off the hill.

Passed is the season of passion and desire

Sunlight at noon, a heart on fire

Flaming and joyous the livelong day.

We departed from field cheering and wakeful

At the end of the harvest home

And the hare bell sounded on the whispers of wind.

The surge of the sky over golden hay

When the breeze blew brave in our hair without ending

And sympathy swayed in the aspen dance

Restlessly dancing to dawn

Dancing forlorn in the shade

The dark boughs bending.

Or we sang to the stars in the fading light

And the cries fell short in some field afar

And the evil came on with the clouds of night.

A cold wind stirs me and soft leaves' fall

Inward falling down

All life turning in

To winter's death.

And I have brought home

Indeed I have borne a sufficient harvest

After the day's long toil, a residue in part

From the dreams that were left behind at dawn -

For I have known the glory

The glory for I have known the glory of the Lord

Now let me rest. At dusk the leaves

Fall soft on my bed, to damp earth.

O watch

The dark land when I sleep

And protect me from the evil :

The night will come deeper.

Richard Henderson