The World Outside My Window

For Those I Leave Behind
(for Sue)

Yesterday,
the leaves were green,
today,
yellows, browns and reds,
are all that can
be seen,

falling,
from lofty perches,
another
summer has come and gone,
another ring around my trunk,
as the year winds down,

closer
to the end,
then
to where it all began,
those, many years,
long ago,

staring
through the window, I see myself,
wondering,
if I’ve made a difference,
for those I
leave behind?

The World Outside My Window

Through the trees, opaque
billowy pillows, splash on
an azure canvas, sailing furiously,
beyond my view.

Trees bending, each limb,
each branch, separately
shifting, everything dusted,
by a cold white blanket.

The hard rust road,
emitting bits, pieces,
translucent, behind the gray
dismal trees, now empty.

A picture, its beauty, a mere
landscape, unknown to all,
framed by my window where I work,
each day, composing, my words.

The sun breaks, the silence,
momentarily, revealing itself,
another frothy foam drowning
the expressions of light.

The green needles of a lone pine,
dangle, high above, scooping up
the rays of the sun,
today, there are few.

Sounds of motion, rush by,
swoosh, invading
my senses, suggesting
movement, contour.

Another cloud seizes the
sun, insinuating what
will surely come,
maybe not today, but soon.

Cold, moisture falling,
again, from the sky,
clouds, delivering white starlets,
multifaceted inhabitants.

Cumulus, like trees, dropping
their unneeded luggage,
as though aging, as a man
losing his youth.

Today, I understand,
the world outside
my window, a fragile old world,
that’s getting older.