In your absence,
fall came anyway.
Leaves turned ruddy and gold,
began their wuthering dance,
fluttered down like leaflets
as they’ve always done.
I wore your new jacket
as I gathered them into bags,
finding solace
in a world that carries on,
concerned only with
the next ending,
the next beginning,
the next, the next.
Published in Open Arts Forum on .
Hugh does not prefer to talk about himself in the third person, but if he did, he'd tell you he's in a self-imposed exile on the east coast of the USA, but still loves his former home in the Sonoran Desert. He is the author of Odd Numbers And Evensongs and Auditions For The Afterlife.
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