This morning I let
melancholy have its say
and when, at day’s end,
the blues filled pond and sky,
blues’ beauty also filled me.
Newly fallen golden leaves join
leaves of years past, now stiff and brown.
There was a time when they were fresh and green,
their place made possible
by other golden leaves that, in time,
released their hold and found a new place
in the ever-changing order of things.
There is a carpenter in me with an impressive tool belt. She thinks she can fix everything. Every time there’s a leak in the ducts, she blames that darn condensation, and whips out her metallic tape. And when there’s a heart break, she mumbles something about not meeting code, then takes…