Synchrony (a poem)

Some things feel connected…

As I was setting her upon the breeze
you chose the moment to take your leave

I found out when I got home

You had a sense that it was coming
so I guess this proves you right

And I told you there would be a next time

It was so cold this morning
when I stepped outside
I half expected the world to be grey

But it wasn’t—just cold

I’m learning the season of dying
is always lonely
leaving shells in its wake
along with crisp breezes
on sunny February mornings

(12 February 2022)

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