She returns from the edge of the Lake
Somehow difficult to see
A shape shifting silhouette against the shimmering winter glare
A fragmented mosaic reflection of
Crimson maples on the far shore
She stops halfway back
Her silence tells me
That there once was a life growing in her
A summer butterfly’s autumn dream
A tiny timid heart . . .
And now the distant mountains are blurred in reflection
The edges of the World are fading . . . disappearing . . .
The flesh walls of the unseen world are falling away in the sunset
The ascending moon is new
And yields no light