This is the autumn

of my life.

My hands turn red

from the chemo

and my legs area skinny as leafless trees.

I know not what the winter holds but sometimes I pray for it. The great sleep.

There are no leaves at my feet and the  winter pale has already set  in.

I have no angles anymore;  I walk the walk of trees:

solemn, patient, hungry for the great sleep.

I now know the stsrength and steadfast gentleness of trees-  home to all who seek them, no matter what season.

My brother is in his springtime, as are many of my friends.

I look to the sunlight about them with faith  until i’m blinded by it’s love.