The Joy of the Thick of It

Look down, as you hold on,
and you will see the water rushing below through a most narrow channel
called the autumn.

Let go,
and you will fall into the middle of the torrent.

Right there, so far out of your depth,

Let the scenes blur past you, diving under, and rising up,
breathing enough to live.

All the while knowing that this river evens out, then stops.
Not merely coughing you up on the shore,
it will disperse entirely
to green the landscape all around,
and having brought you this far, leave you in dead leaves
of November
to sputter and cough, and grade papers.