On being OK

they take their leave.
it has been hanging around for a while now
in the taste of stillness and joy

they leave their gift.
a book of poetry
which yesterday amongst warmth and laughter
fell open on an ee cumming poem
predicting just today
where the crisp unfettered blueness of autumn
does not permit one to wander off to other seasons

they take their brightness,
their voices
leaving behind a language strangely my own

floating

colourful feathers gravitating towards the
shockingly
yellow
leaves