Ablaze

I try to imagine that death

will be like Fall;

wrinkles will be

not signs of wear,

but colors of age.

In Fall,

excitement is mingled with relief.

In Trees,

red and yellow are the

accumulated remnants

of what the plant could not use.

Perhaps, when we die our pains will blaze like sunset.

Like colored leaves;

those of us left to watch the process

will get to view the demise in glory.

RED.
Gold.
yellow.

BARE…

 

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