This poem is included in an article I wrote for Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry (https://phoebemd.com/2020/03/21/grief-healing-through-poetry/).
The article is based on my poetry podcast Grief: Fire and Ice (https://meelosmom.podbean.com/e/grief-fire-and-ice/).
Grace
the leaves have fallen and stomped to dust
I am laid bare, exposed to wind
my limbs, brittle, still pleading
for a meal of sun
some days too short for food
nests lay bare as squirrels forage
the wind cools me to my roots
I am glass
holding on to my reflections
lest they be lost to twilight
Grace clothes me in a gown
meant for a bride embracing her heart
this pure finery sparkles as diamonds
on my icy bough
I rest with the Angel of Mercy
Š2019 Barbara Harris Leonhard
extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com
meelosmom@podbean.com (Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul)
Image: my yard
Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver 
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