Stone cold he glared

in the face of my

unseasonably sunny

“Good morning!”

He glared,

the disdain

– nay, seething –

riveting me in place

but a moment.

I paused,

taken aback


recognizing the shift.

I broke stride

but a moment

then carried on,


your loss.

I am not alone

in thinking:

It did not need

to be this way.

These were

your choices,

the fruits of

your labour,

of the harm

you wrought

and sowed.

I am not sad

to see you go.