Before Green and old cricket take their leave and presume
We distinguish between absence and loss
A thing like belonging absorbs.
The screen door out back, and light among talk

Between friends, why, memory seems safe
Of the past, pricked by sounds soft as Soon
Will be gone or seem so when sharp
In simplicity – no longer opaque, now eased by

Riches of trees, In winter I become divisible,
Cold sharpens being, spaces between,
Movement should be easier
Yet burden is defined by plummeting
Mercury – the symbol of flight. Ah, yes I shall miss you too?

by Lois Kackley/www.netpoem.wordpress.com