The Back Page


As the winter solstice looms on the horizon and we’re poised to give thanks, we decided to publish some reflective viewpoints.  They have been collecting dust in our files for some time.  I recently contacted the author and sought permission to publish.  The author agreed under the condition that their authorship remains anonymous.  Here they are for your enjoyment.




The Changing of the Colors


I am a leaf upon a tree,

And there are other leaves with me.

It is Autumn.

            The other leaves are turning red,

            but I am resistant to nature.


My fate is mine to chose;

My life is mine alone to lose.

It is Autumn.

            The other leaves are turning brown,

            but my stem is strong and firmly attached.


The winds blow strong and ill;

The other leaves have caught a chill.

It is Autumn.

            They are falling to the ground,

            but I have the strength to sustain me.


The tree is bare, and I alone remain.

All my friends are gone; life is not the same.

It is almost Winter.

            The birds tell me of bad times to come,

            and I know now what I denied before.




Day’s End


Purple clouds drifting through the multicolored sky.

Darkened cliffs sliding silently into the sea.

Glass and metal walls establishing roads for the

            runaway stains of tarnished roofs.

One silent person looking through the window – me.


Time for leaving, wrapping up business for the day.  

Sounds of autos churning, homeward-bound in the streets.

Glass crackling, floors groaning and buildings creaking,

putting themselves at ease for the evening.

All business stops for the time being.


Objects merging together as the sun disappears,

            the sky following its lead.

Trees at ease in darkened solitude, providing

            for their own nightly needs.

The night completes itself, and the only window

            vision is my mirrored self.


The events of the day have had their say only to

            live again in papers and memories.






As I sit at the sea’s edge,

My thoughts are separate from the sights

            of the ocean at dusk.

The smell of the ocean’s colors pass me by.

The specter of cancer living in one so dear,

My mind’s not mine alone to clear.


The half-circled sun is swallowed by the sea;

What better place for me to be.

Thickened clouds of darkened light,

Lungs no longer breathe delight;

Overwhelmed and unprepared for natural fright.


The sun sinks lower and vanishes,

And all things lose their daytime glow.

Is something happening for me to know?

The daytime of one’s existence must go

And enter a place we’ve yet to know.


How foolish for me to anger and fear

The pending death of one so dear,

When guidance and insight are so near.

The absence of life is not an end;

It’s only our selfish viewpoint

            that it offends.