She ran off before dawn
taking with her the warmth of her days,
the lingering light of her long evenings. 
She left glorious gardens overflowing
with fanciful flowers,
tomatoes still on the vine,
cucumbers along the path,
melons ripe in the field.

He took charge on Saturday September 22nd
demeanor cool, mannerisms aloof. 
He seemed not to know
of our appetite for light,
the way it makes us happy
to walk with it in the park after work. 
He seemed not to know
how wary we grow of the dark,
unsettled when shadows of night
descend too quickly, before
we can make amends for the day, before
we can say thank-you
for all things that matter.


© by Janet Leahy.
Used with the author’s permission.