early autumn chill somber toning frogling bass stars beam silent truth
mid summer hints its end here too the night extends in tones lamenting twilit choke of day-- changeling-hours' ease: a memory offsetting later dawns
yet deeper chills portend an autumn's coming tide of ending-songs
i too am passing as a haiku's universal scope of timeless time, galactic spin within the frogling's utterance, makes morbid rhythms eyed; i fear i'm croaking right along this somber bass, and wonder *is it time? so soon? envisioning the ancient host of haiku masters brittle, fade in unison of tears or tranquil noddings at the season's cutting partial circles round the sun
i read i am the aging frog by virtue of a poem, and then it lets me leap!