Intervals depicted by woefully
                        stark sights.

Tombstone branches drape
              over the division
of essence.

That now clings to the earth,
  moved on by the breath around.


I see them grazing in the air,
a corpse  of what was warm.

Now showing the frigidness
                          of what is upon us.

Mourning the beauty of what was,
         and I look up at the tombstone
branches in reverence.

Awaiting the time when life wavers
          above me once again.

And then I will smile, for now,
       I slumber within my

stark contemplations.