Fall swells and crinkles
Bursts of color give way to shriveled deadness
I try not to compare last, and this
Last... where death surrounded me.
This... where changes are swirling, promising, new.
I disentangle myself.
Last... where oranges had already begun to peek through the branches.
This... still lush with green, holding onto the richness of summer.
Can I step from one Fall into another, without remembrance of things past?
Without a reminder, every time, of where I was before?
On this day, last year, a measured labor of pain.
I look now forward with a fresh start and clean slate,
Wondering how to embrace another Fall.
Another promise of Winter.
Another promise of chill, long nights, and uneven slumber.
Spring is inextricably distant.
Pause. Move. Reflect.