The color of rust spreads across the landscape
Signaling the approach of bitter cold days to come.
November’s glow dimming down dying embers of October
Anticipates the ashen bare-branched trees of December.
The so sweet tender song of the white throats returns
Promising musical counterpoint to the cheerful chickadee
calls
Moving quickly through the woods in mixed flocks
Joined by juncos and titmice, a nuthatch and a downy.
For me the season brings an undercurrent of melancholy
Especially this year when I learned how to spell metastatic
Contemplating the uncertain finite future for my friend
We make plans for next year with a sense of urgency.
Going on a hike together appreciating the beauty of the
world
Talking back and forth listening to his questions and
thoughts
Learning how he is always looking for the back story
Trying as best I can for him and for me to stay in the
present.
