Falling Petals

A flower blooms - only for a time - then petal by falling petal, dies. And faster still when winter settles - washing white all color from sight. An heirloom clock wakes sleepy night, a new calendar sits on tidy desk, a still life hanging on shadowed wall - helps to remind of spring's rebirth as days grow ever shorter. Does winter's chill call thoughts of death to those who would rather forget or bury our discontent beneath the snow? In late autumn's weary hours, I tend to the fading flowers and waiting, hold my breath.