Where the cusp of summer meets the fall
There is a stillness now.
It settles into this fragile branch
and rests beneath its bow.
It was a year ago this breeze swept in
to leave me restless with a knowing,
that much to which I clung so tight,
would vanish with its blowing.
Such a heavy grace that I recall,
its patience strong and steady,
a messenger who sat quite silent,
and waited at the ready.
Amidst the bluster and bluish sky,
it stung my catching breath,
I recognize its gentle hand
that wisely gestured death.
When summer's sky lends to a fold,
And the sun's warm earth begins to chill,
memory balances outside the window,
and sits upon my sill.
Just like clockwork, it sidles up,
with a lonely persistent stare,
and waits for me to realize
that it is still standing there.
