If lives mimics the four seasons
this is autumn
newness of spring distant now
summer of birth and bounty past
Like autumn leaves drifting on a brisk wind
collecting in snug corners sporadically
loved ones gather close
before scattering on their way
Midnight is a prayer
requiem for the day
laid upon the altar of both fears and promises
the gleaning hour, where silent reverie
strips us bare, and we are left with only the naked honesty of our hearts
That dark litany never ending in amen
but in mea culpas or hosannas
#vss365