Poem of the Day VIII

Autumn
by Rainer Maria Rilke from The Book of Images

The leaves are falling, falling as from far,
as though above were withering farthest gardens;
they fall with a denying attitude.

And night by night, down into solitude,
the heavy earth falls far from every star.

We are all falling. This hand's falling too--
all have this falling-sickness none withstands.

And yet there's One whose gently-holding hands
this universal falling can't fall through.

© 1977 by New Directions Publishing