That time of year again

And so it begins as it has for almost fourteen years: the season of slow descent into remembrance and grief due to loss of my late husband. Yesterday as I sat watching the leaves fall, I wrote this poem:

BREATH

It's so still
You could hear
The breath of a whisper.

Not a leaf stirring
Before the storm;
No sound, no wind:
Fall, a hush of
Silence before the cries.

You left in winter
But that fall was promise
All hope & fulfilled prayers.

Now, every autumn the silence
Reminds me of your voice
Never to speak again;
   Quiet, the tears,
The years since you've gone.

----
Year after year. Grief revisited, a loved one never forgotten.