I count the weeks, the months
Until I can be me
Just me, again
We create spaces
Walk away from them
Return, re-visit, renovate
We take what was
And make of it
Something else
Whether for utility
Or a statement
“I hope at least one of them is,” I dead-panned.
She giggled, “Only in a good way!”
What could say autumn more
With such spare beauty
And somber solitude?
The leaves turn colours
Unimaginable
Lighting mountainsides on fire
Reflecting on
The inmate’s time here
Brings me sadness
It lead to a window
Which would not open
And I could not see through
As much as I preferred
Being in the light
I returned to the darkness
Side-trips provide
Opportunities for insight and growth
Some windows allow the light in
But obscure its source
Not all doors can be opened
And it is unwise to walk through
Every door that does