Written by: Bernadette Langer

Night falls unceremoniously, 
moon staggering with discontent; 

As I lie amid snoring walls, 
praying for fireflies to peel back-- 
blankets of darkness. 

While symphonies of Cicadas 
sing of beginnings, 
without ever realizing their endings 
will result in stony silence;

What remains are engorged green leaves 
filled with the memory of yellow;

Red berries sadly dimpled 
with the knowledge of brown.

The grey white of icebergs disappearing into endless blue

and the surety of death
recorded by all that once was 

and now is achingly no more...