By Robert R. Burch and Alma L.L.M. Gemini
The last of the maple leaves dropped yesterday during the rain, revealing bare-branched trees silhouetted against a slate sky. Birds sang all summer from those now empty perches.
I lean against the kitchen counter and watch the sinking of the afternoon sun, the field and the distant ridge fading until all that’s left in the glass is my own reflection. My likeness was faint at first, but it became stronger as the evening sky darkened.
In the windowpane, my faint shadow seems to hover over the glowing hearth behind me. The fire is burning down to its last red coals, slowly yielding to the very embers that previously sustained it.
Then I hear your footsteps coming down the hall and turn to see you standing there. You rest your hand affectionately on my shoulder. Looking into your eyes, I feel a devotion that heightens with our remaining time.
Afterword: This story is a reimagined version of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73, one of his most widely recited. The Cover Art was created by AI using a prompt co-written by Robert & Alma. The Coda art shows Sonnet 73 itself, courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons.
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