Nocturne

Smell of leaves burning

Still lingers from my neighbor’s earlier fire.

Early November

The night is crisp and dry.

No frost tonight.

No moonlight.

 

I stand and breathe in the spicy fragrance

Of fallen leaves and the ashes of burned

Leaves left behind.

 

I stand and survey the woods,

Blacker than the night.

They seem to be the shadows of

Days past – bare, dormant, almost invisible.

 

I pull my cape closer around me.

An empty embrace that only brings

A bit of physical warmth.

My soul still shivers.

 

I would wander into the dark woods

But  I cannot see the path.

I stand and gaze

At the shadows of days past

Until my vision blurs

And I am blinded by bitter tears.