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.

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