Japanese Maple in Late November

Leaves fall,

uncloaking the grand oak.

The cricket’s song

drifts away with the breeze.

But the delicate Japanese maple

remains glorious and resplendent.

.

Lying under a charcoal sky,

leaves falling like memories of time past,

I turn my head and see you

in the distance.

You-the ruby haired queen

standing on the rampart

watching battle weary soldiers fall.

And I understand hope.

Shadows and Light

Life with you was shadows and light.

On days when there was only light,

there was never only light.

A small step

in either direction

and you would cast your shadow.

Some days it would remain small

yet present.

It would ruminate

and wait

and then grow.

It would grow

until it reigned over us.

And tears would rain

from eyes

that searched

longing for light’s return.

If only it was always shadow,

the light would not be missed.

But such was not our fate.

.

Now that you are gone, it is only shadow-

that haunts my memories

that burdens my conscience

that chases the light.

Shadows

light

You

I

Life

Death

An end

that never ends