The nature of things

The nature of things

The nature of things

Sometimes when I arise early
The moon still high in the vault above me,
Only silence without,
Traffic hushed for a time until the rush begins,
Perhaps the wind gentle in its caress,
Or crickets calling forlornly out for a mate,
Is my company,
Non-intrusive, peaceful, in the music that they make.

As I sit in the quiet kitchen
My morning ritual before me,
Coffee,
Coffee mate and sugar,
Stirring slowly watching the steam rise before me,
Rising beautiful in its gentle dance before dissipation,
Relaxing the mind allowing thoughts seldom entertained
To make their way languidly for my inspection.

Some mornings I am surprised by one realizations,
As if it never took root,
Perhaps not allowing an impression to be branded,
Not wanting to accept its finality.

They are gone,
No longer here for me to call or talk to,
One dead these many years,
The other only a scant time ago,
Their exit a memory when the texture of the world changed,
Orphaned as we all are if we live long enough,
Options limited,
Better that parents go first,
Children to follow as is the natural order of things.

I gasp,
Surprised that yes they are no more
At least as far as this world goes.
My mourning was not like I hear others have,
Perhaps it is because I have not accepted it,
Living in denial;
The reality too painful yet for me to fully accept.

On the other hand,
I worked at having closure with both,
Leaving nothing behind that I would regret,
Trying at times desperate to say what I wanted to say,
Wounds healed,
Words taken back,
Love expressed,
So when the door opened and they walked through
I did have some peace,
Death after all is part of the nature of things.