It drifted in twirling pathways
Of deep grey rain and golden sunbursts
On the mountains
–Your last autumn.
Anxious finches, the rustling light on leaves.
The world in memory. The world in preparation.
Only in Fall
Can the world be angled so differently.
Your eyes were a cerulean blue,
Like the sky,
Your last autumn.
I wonder what moments were focused in those lenses.
Crinkly-smile lines and warm sweater hugs?
The final leaf falls, in a sigh.
But now it is some other Fall,
And I see grays and golds
-Kathryn Gustafson, 2016