Being alone means something different
now that I am alone.
Time, there is no such thing,
moves more slowly than it ever did 
or the sun shines and the moon less often
when there is no voice to greet me
when morning comes or night falls.

Is this grieving, this silent
dark movement into Winter?
Will there be another side to this absence
where once was a love -
that everyday normal way of being
with another and I thought
nothing of it the way it was?

I have time now, that thing
that isn't but we make so much of.
I've taken down the clocks
even the ones for sleeping and waking
for I do not need to know
what time I wake when the night,
not so far spent, calls my name.

Of the night I am learning to make a friend,
that dark and silent being that surrounds me.
She is warm and tender, like a blanket of wool
that keeps me from getting too cold.
It's not the same as having someone close
breathing beside me in the bed,
still, I will accept even her embrace.

_____________________________________________
Portland, Oregon - November 30, 2022

Through the green and golden maze out my window
wends the serpentine river of abundant life.
It is not, as I have thought, only sidewalk and street -
but the burgeoning of life itself passing before me.

Floating downstream walk couples hand in hand
while upstream a woman makes her way 
through autumn's wind and spitting rain
against the bubbling currents of chilled air.

Pine needles drop and cherry leaves fall
over all the crows, chickadees, and sparrows
who scrabble about through the sodden ground
while neighbors pack up kids in the car.

Such is the scenery to sustain me
through the dark months of winter.
Comfort, stillness, and healing I will pluck
from this lively river flowing on its endless way.
___________________________________________________
Portland, Oregon - November 6, 2022