The Meaning of Fall

The summer is over
and the sounds of cicadas
are somehow confused
with the sound of wind blowing through
the dried up leaves of trees.

I have felt your absence more this year than I did last year
on the anniversary of your death.
I think I was more prepared for it last year.
I put on armor of some kind and
somehow forgot it this year-
only the second year you’re not here.

Every time Jonas finds the shell of a cicada,
I’m reminded of the ones he collected from your yard
while we sat under clear blue skies wondering why.

There is nothing left of you here and I miss you.

I see a frozen image of your smile in a photograph
and it feels more distant
than the two years that have passed
since we lost you

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