I can taste before, with such sweetness
Although at the time, all I could feel was the rain.
Now, I savor this late-August evening;
an over-ripe plum
so full of life, that it withers.
What’s left will ferment
into a blissful potion of past
to be sipped on in winter—
To warm and illuminate my flesh, for a moment.
Impermanence makes all things gold and sweet.
So here I am in this late summer evening,
trying my best to savor the flavor of this hour,
so in the winter, I can sip it again…
And when the winter passes,
and my drink is done,
I hope these words live on,
in some other, relative youth.
So that he, or she, or they, or what have they
can remember to savor this day—
and hold tight to tomorrow...
Knowing that this too shall pass,
and the juice of today will ferment by tomorrow.