The fallen
hair -
not the last -
on her shoulder,
a light burden.

Will the blade crack
when the last one falls?

Will she still be standing
tall?

Her shoulders stooped
like her height were a hindrance?

Her steps robotic
like she had no control?

Her sleep lost
like age was a problem?

Her dreams dying
like nightmare had to win?

Her breath slow
like fast was a crime?

Or,
will her last breath happen
before
the last hair falls?

When Ego and Humility Meet...

When Ego and Humility meet,
there's no discussion;
only instruction,
resentment simmering in silence.

One breathing hard,
the other's neck burning;
one's weight overbearing,
the other's physicality shrinking;
one speaking sarcasm,
the other's mind clogged;
one meaning "I'll tell you, you do it,"
the other feeling loss of joy.

Their meeting inevitable
unless Humility acts.
So, the first scene unfolds.
There is pretense on both sides.
When the second scene is on,
realization dawns on Ego.
The third scene in slow motion
and then the act is over.

Humility is spared
Ego's bullying.

When I saw that picture...

Those leaves -
yellow, red, green -
a sign!
Some warmth,
cold invading.

Feet bare
no more, wrapped pink -
dainty
she walks
mindful.

New morn -
sunlight streaming
fresh hope,
her tea
staring at her.

The news -
no, not shocking;
autumn?
winter?
She cares no more.