Habitual Motion

A woman stands in
a bright yellow kitchen.

She is present in the life
that he built with her
though he is no longer alive,
there in their little house.

She puts on a kettle and warms
the coffee cake made for two
yet she sits down as a party of
one.

Outside the kitchen window,
the warming chill of autumn’s end
begins to give way to the
blankness of freezing winds.

An Evergreen stands
in the dying forest.

The scratched-out bark
forever holds the place
that spells out his name
placed next to hers.

That tree, once a summer’s green,
is now turned to a grey that,
like a vibrant fall leaf,
will never return to its verdancy.