It came slowly
Like a languid
Dallying summer breeze
So that the world felt no less sweet
When the wind slipped over.

And like it came it went
Into the scorching heat of summer
Into the peril of fall
And finally into the tragedy that is
Winter


But it left so slowly that the seasons
Blended into one another
And later it could not be told where it
Was summer or winter in which
It happened

It was more that almost
Fall and almost winter and almost spring
Were just interchangeable place marks
On the grueling,
Slow road of loss