An excerpt from Fleeting Moments of Fierce Clarity: Journal of a New England Poet
Sparks from the fire
were cast into the sky—
for a moment able to live
as red stars of the Milky Way.
The balance tips
and we pass into the darkness.
the days of long-daylight, spent.
The trees surrender their leaves,
laying themselves bare—
unto those who dwell around.
The clinging leaves
ripped away violently
from their mother bough—
orphans falling to earth;
Some to wither where they fall,
others to have their mulchy ashes
spread across the four directions—
borne away by the gusts of wind
unto a new shore.