Slivers of Light

It is the autumn sillhoettes you love,
black and white cutouts againt the dusk sky,
leaves gone from October winds and rain,
leaving the essence of trees,
sharp and visible, cutting the light into slivers
far more perfect than summer allows,
hoping as you age and waste away
your own essence becomes as clear
and worth gazing at in wonder.

About this poem

A poem about autumn and aging. Ageing is the strangest thing. At times you feel younger and freer than ever, and at times you feel worn beyond words. I read once that we become more of who we really are as we age. My hope it that I like what I am when I am at the end.

Until then, I am grateful for all the leaves in my life that come and go with the seasons, and the beauty and love they have brought me. Life is good.

Tom