Begin with a clear blue sky,
uncommon at this time of year.
Standing at the cusp
where Autumn tilts us into
the abyss of the long Winter.
The sharpness of the light
lifts the soul, reminds us
there will always be such moments;
brightness of light,
the sun uncovered.
Then the small voice
will sing, a high
pitched lovely lament;
How not to be here,
standing in this doorway,
listening to the birdsong,
existence and loveliness
continuing in our absence.
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