Poem for Defiant Sunset in Winter

 

I wish that the withering part

didn’t have to be painful.

I wish there didn’t have

to be such atrophy

…or agony. Do flowers

feel deconstructed

when they succumb?

I suppose, though, if there

weren’t pain, then we

might decide there was

no good reason to say goodbye

…to relinquish the day.

 

The sun just now eked triumphant

through the space between the

dark cloud cover

and the horizon…emblazoning

the mountain slopes to the east,

waving farewell

as it sets into its long

darkness of night…

As the chariot falls over the

threshold of its evening stable,

the rebel peers at me

through his rearview mirror,

and smirking, throws a thumb over his shoulder,

pointing towards

the place where youthful

morning will rise

as if to say…’remember.’

 

 

 

 

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