At the time as leaves nestled
a hushed acquaintance
brushed by as Autumn.
Healing beneath his tongue
He tasted Maraschino again.
His bloodstream reinvigorated
by these changes
eagerly suspending disbelief.

At the time the wind stood still
he found discarded keys
to an Autumnal hut
and  bounded opened its door
he felt the joy of those  sprouted aliums
Which he hurriedly planted in a drill