Not even sunlight can banish the storms
The tempest that turns all it touches to what I abhor
Tributes of gold that flow from the trees;
Touching the sky to flame, to beauty
Nevertheless, my eyes protest
I do not see light. I do not see grace
A simple drive and what do I find?
Woman and child, together outside
God, they’re in agony!
Holding what’s left, someone’s final breaths
They weep, clad in flesh…
A blink and a jolt, I shudder
This is not a vigil.
Just chores. Elbows deep in a bag of mulch.