R E M E M B R A N C E

By Indira Sinton

 

Autumn closes – a war ends;

in the air a chill – apprehension -

winter ahead - long, cold,

trees stark - nations stripped;

the leaves once fresh, young, brave,

are all gone now - fallen to the ground.

We, pensive in remembrance of their beauty,

are grieved at the sadness of their death,

and for a moment,

are aware

 of our own bareness.

 

Soon spring will return – new foliage,

until the next inexorable fall.

 

For now, leaves lie still;

imminent is the harsh hiver.

 

We remember - we are wise;

there is nothing else to warm

our tired cold minds.

 

 

 

                                                                                                                 Copyright © 1987 Indira Sinton

Originally published in Georgian Bay Today