I’m in the garden waiting for Brigit

    As fall comes on.

She arrives, sighs from bending over,

     and smiles at the harvest sparkling up at her.

Wind drives itself through her – 

     through her heart –

          pain, at first,

          then:

               The long, long letting go…

                                             -Mary Elyn Bahlert, Connemara, August 31, 2017