Softly, Sorrow Came

Isabel Borgers

When the sorrow came
it did not startle like a piercing wind
in the newborn autumn or
materialize like a
dust devil
sudden and harsh

It came like the first snowfall
deceptively gentle
even as it buried alive
green things yet awakened
foreshadowing the barren days

Like an early spring wind
it came without warning
promising warmth
and peace
only to betray a turn to winter
and sadness

Softly, the sorrow came
disguised as quiet melancholy
or an ephemeral shadow
but it rested
like a dark bird
and would not leave