"If you asked 

the sources of his glee he would shrug  

his thick shoulders and roll his eyes  

upward to where the turning leaves  

take the wind, and the gray city birds  

dart toward their prey, and flat clouds  

pencil their obscure testaments  

on the air. For a moment  

the energy that makes them who  

they are shatters the noon’s light  

into our eyes, and when we see  

again they are gone and the street  

is quiet, the day passing into  

evening, and this is autumn"

from Salt and Oil

by Philip Levine