Nature drops rainbows underfoot to crunch,

  bathes leaves in brilliant sun,

pools colors in the puddles.

A distraction? The end's inevitable,

and the path is clear.

We'll  shrug off life, like Autumn's blanket.

I want to splash in the flow of life, 

but see the face of death in Fall's reflections.

######

This is the anniversary of my Mother's death, and the season of her birth. From the time she was a little girl, Mom expressed herself in writing. She found solace in words, as a poor kid of immigrant parents, as a single Mom in the sixties, and as a woman struggling with Bipolar Disorder for most of her adult life.  Recently I found the following among her papers:

Change is inevitable,

deny it or not...

it comes like a 

dark cloud overhead...

 Hovering and hanging

within vision.

 Because of my history,

you guys got me labeled...

You look backwards, 

while I move forwards.

 Adios, amigos!