The Color of Death

I saw  little boy
carrying a dead fish
at the beach.
The fish was flat – decayed -
the color of wet sand
viewed through my tinted glasses,
which added to the gloom of the day.
It made me think of change.
Here it was
a warm October day and
just 3 months ago
this beach was packed
with people,
the water more inviting.

These days are getting colder.
I hate the cold;
it reminds me of something inside myself;
something not just cold
but something dead -
life isn't like the seasons;
there's little guarantee
that the warmth will return.

by Bruce Whealton
October 8, 2009