Seasons Change

Do you see those trees,
there on the hillside,
so dark against the snowy white?
Do you see thin branches reaching
to the too-high sky,
how they seem like fingers
gnarled in a death-agony?
Do you hear the silence
in the space between us?

Last spring, all was green,
bright and perfect
as the hope of redemption.
Last spring (I remember now),
there were no bare bones of branches,
no... last spring was leaves,
was light, and the life of a new earth.
Last spring sweet birdsong
chased the silence from our ears.

I walked with her, last spring,
in the shadow of those trees.
Her face was like...
Oh! if only you had met her,
you would know already.
We spoke of roots, and stones,
and what grows between the cracks.
And when I touched her hand,
or held her beating heart...

Last spring we loved
(yes... I loved her dearly).
It's winter's stolen her away,
surely, surely... surely
she wouldn't leave
without a word,
wouldn't slip like a shadow...
Do you hear the silence
in the space between us?