Leaves
leaves of amber and saffron cling to the trees,
while the autumn breezes attempt to swat them down,
time passing,
the evidence clear,
winter snows will soon be here,
forlorn I watch the leaves glide to the ground,
mortality visualized with each leaf's descent,
autumns counted and savored through the years,
the good byes sweet,
and heartfelt,
knowing the darkness of winter to be navigated again,
before the leaves of Spring can reappear.
November 2015
planes explode,
and fall from the skies,
people beheaded,
and Syrians still die,
schools the site of mass shootings,
month after month,
the police and their actions,
under attack,
questions asked,
after the fact,
the airwaves choked full of monday morning quarterbacks,
the world surreal,
while my son plays in the autumn leaves,
hopes and dreams cover the ground.
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