Poem- Ghosts in Autumn

A poem of love lost.


Ghosts in Autumn

The ebbs of sunlight trickle down through quaking aspen
Painting expressions on a face tightened by the cold, and years.
The leaves remember him, but soon autumn will carry them away
like steam off of mulled cider. They have grown old
because branches have whispered to them
the secrets of roots, and they have listened.

The weathervane horse creaks away from the setting sun
pointing out to the wind what it already knows.
The young cedars bend while the old stand and creak
and wait for the young to join them. The leaning man knows
they will endure when he has gone.

Geese fly veeward over,
their honking calls swallowed in the deepening sky;
pink majesty turning to purple majesty turning to night.

The house is much how he left it. The brass letters
above the door are different, though the lighter shades
of paint once sheltered peek through, betraying the change.

A light flicks on in the porch window and you, silhouetted, sit down to dinner
with your new family,

and give thanks.


Background image by Vanzin

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• poetry
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