'Nothing changes -- ever'

Indeed, it was just a scented wind ago
(But another day, another year)
When a young boy snatched at a
hover fly, and clutched
In crumpled hands, the empty air.
Nothing changes -- ever.
The insect drones a lazy paean to the sun
In the molten noon, and there is not winter.
But the brook is ice and the leaf is mold
Till the grass is sweet again.
How to measure time --
Earth reborn, and flesh a year dissolved.
Again full cycle, and the fly is gauze
on the garden walk --
And childhood's done, with memories.

--from 'Poem' by Roger Fogelman.