By: Shelley Smithson
The afternoon basks in the autumn light,
Sunshine warming the seconds of the day
As they tick onward against the aging blossoms.
Future and past meet in the angle of the light,
The heart quickening with memories that seep out of the shadows,
Laid open wide to air in the sunshine.
So many years stored in the smells of an afternoon.
Time like the ever-present buzzing of the beetles
The descant over the lush of light,
Demanding that losses be tallied,
That one trample through thoughts,
Soaking up the sadness before the sunlight burns it away.
The wind on the skin
The only answer that matters.
Shelley Smithson finds writing poetry a way to wind through the emotions of life that she believes are both complex and refreshing. She began to write in her 60s as the years of being a psychotherapist taught her that expressing even the darkest of feelings is freeing. She works full time as a therapist and writes when time permits, living in northern Michigan where beach walking inspires her words.