Something else odd-fangled enters by day
Under my soul disguised as fondness once wanted
Monstrous loss, guilt once foreign, now familiar
Want so comfortably roots like that perpetual growth of vines creeping into a cracked window
Senses of the author artist and sculptor
to make these things I hold despairingly close
The time and memory made in Fall greets me in Spring
denying the passage of time one year later
Rays of glory penetrate like soldiers
screaming through the fog of war
Piercing, cutting trimming bringing the night
like moonlight piercing the dusk
Peace comes with the moonlight
With the soft stillnesses of sleep and quiet.