Autumn and the Loss of the Anvil

 Late October - autumn in my garden this afternoon.

Leaves of rust, berries, late blooms. A constant robin and crow.

This afternoon, as she lays her hands between my shoulder blades, lovely therapist asks,

And what is your main loss?

Of course it's Robin

 but more than the whole of him

 it's the loss of the anvil

 of relationship, 

the opportunity 

to spark growth,

and change,

and self discovery 

in the friction, 

in the fire

in the mirror

of

the beloved other.

Kissing the cold glass

of a framed photograph

 creates

only

sadness

and 

longing.