There is a waiting in the air,
Anticipation,
As if all the earth
Holds its breath
For what is to come.

The trees prepare for sleep,
Sealing off their leaves.
No longer do those leaves
Turn green; instead
Their true colors show,
Fading, waiting, for release.

The Autumn winds scour the air,
Scour the earth, cleansing it
Of Summer's complacence,
Freeing the trees of their leaves
For sleep.

I, too, am waiting,
Watching my true colors
Appear, as assumption... read more

Longing unfulfilled is a cruel companion,
Though one of loyal constancy, as
The beating of a second heart.

It searches out each sacred place
And lays it down before me:
An offering of hope I can not bear.

It will not leave, this uninvited guest;
And were I to deny it room, reject its truth,
It would be the stopping of a heart
Still beating.