Professor

You became a professor in the
autumn.  And so I am driving
now through spring time
trees to retrieve your trunks and
take you  back east.
This green and winding road
is slit by slow double yellow lines.
Driving here feels like
I am driving through all
those months you spent away from us.
It feels the same as autumn did,
when I drove you in
silence toward your new life.
And in my mind
the leaves are morphing from
a lush end term green
to last September's quiver
and grey November's bared.
Driving here,
I can imagine a nice little life for us.
Maybe next autumn I'll move out here
and give myself up wholly
to the autumn, to this
way of life you lead.