there’s a quiet in this house

and it’s whispering your name

like a wilderness within

betraying who we each became

foxes sing on the radio

a secret echo of those days

when silences were weighted

by your heart-revealing gaze

winter comes so quickly

they say it has its beauty too

oh, but, winter comes too quickly

unbidden memories of you

excerpt from “winter”

It is a quiet place, a hospital room. Our freedoms for now altered. The noise of the world noticeably subdued. Whispered truths so often drowned out are at last heard as meant.

Day is dimming. A husband watching in the half-light as his wife drifts further away from him and further still.

“I guess we’re just in the winter of our lives”, the husband says, watching the woman he’d known for so long and seeing himself.

“Yes, that may be true”, the doctor replies, holding the silence. “But there are many beautiful days in winter too.”

If only. If only the days weren’t so short.