Take it as it comes.

The small explosion of joy
when your teeth come together
and the Early Gold yellow cherry tomato —
last of the season — bursts in your mouth,
you are grateful that it’s good
as you cut down its browning parent
before deep fall and subsequent winter.

Take it as it comes.

You don’t think much of justice any more,
so when comeuppance happens
to someone deserving, or when good happens
to someone deserving? 

Take it as it comes.

Stripped of love, denuded,
clothed in loss and neglect.
The least brush of a hand across your arm
raising a specter of possibility
and you dare to let a smile show
as if everything is in fact 
going to be all right.

Take it as it comes. 

The end only becomes the end
when you reach the end
and you at last understand
that you’ve been
walking autumn streets, and only
autumn streets, from birth to death. You see 
the home of your dreams 
set among trees draped in late red
and late gold. Another burst of joy.
Another glimpse of fairness. Another
smile coaxed forth. And then,

whatever comes next.