Gone

on change and perspective

Pine tree | photo by Elizabeth Helmich

Gone are the fireflies and late evening sun,
gone are lacy leaves quivering goodbye,
gone are jigs at noon, midnight skinny-dips,
gone are the things I wanted to say
last season, but quit.

Here, sparrows trill from silent rooftops,
nests harboring seeds of future songs.
Here, there’s time for cat naps and the silk
of poetry pulled slowly from husks.
Here, those words you’ve kept hidden
are now full grown.

Gone are small, hushed voices, driven with fear.
Here you’ll find me, loud and clear,
waltzing on a moonlit night, face
upturned, for light’s best seen
when dark’s no longer heard.