GLORIOUS MELANCHOLY       2014 Meg Devlin Irish

A glorious melancholy has settled in
with its air of familiarity.
The bliss of summer is gone
with its carefree felicity.
The harvest beckons to tantalize,
its brilliance tears my eyes.
Yet, I fall not woeful, dejected, abashed
through orchards of tempting ripeness,
clinging, trampled, mashed.
For I am ripened by a greater Spirit
that in essence knows,
this too must pass!