September first

The dog barks, unexpectedly;
I stumble down the stairs
and am surprised to find
the clocks are claiming
morning should be here by now
but it's still dark:
these latter days of summer,
when light and time
slip by so quickly
must have confused him.
Will I, too -- some year
when I, like the dog,
am old, and almost blind --

awaken September first,
and howl to find the world still dark
when all that is within me knows
there must be light?