REMEBERANCES

Is it not time
to let go
the backyard
dead leaves
as fallen ashes
by the last summer mum
of the rock garden
you remember at a glance
the knowing eyes
of the mourning dove
now grown pale
once wildly forsaken
on the oak branches
under the slate roof
of our attic window shadows
by frosted gleams
of green sand birds
who will be back soon
in the ruddy sunlight.