Changing Seasons
The muffled noises of the oven
Rings through the door to her house
The smell of cookies, an edible love
Flies straight to my nose
A frail woman aged through life experience
Her gray hair and wrinkled skin
Stood no chance against her mind
In a race against time.
She stands at the counter
Placing cookies on a plate
While she softly hums Amazing Grace
As she covers them with a cloth.
Her garden is a daily project
In her muted yellow sunhat
Vibrant and full of life
As she wants to feel.
Snow now falls
The garden has wilted
The oven gone cold
The love drained from the house.



















