This Picture Poem was for my sister, who was 19 years old at the time.
I thought of you today
While out in the brisk November air
That seems like wintry cold
But without the gloves and scarves and care.
It seems like your life now:
Alert, with hot chocolate a luxury,
Things falling, in transition,
While also as real as they will ever be.
I wish that you were here
Not to talk of news or old times gone
(though I want that too...)
But that, breathing, you would sense this bond:
A forest shedding old for new,
Its glamour shed without a fear
For Spartan, exposed positions
That offer each year views of how
Much life is special before winter.
And the snow has not yet come your way.