My Aunt's Final Winter

Just one
stark photograph
of her by a window,
half-hidden in shadow yet half
in light.

Mirrored,
she appears a spirit woman,
the other side of her
face is captured
by clouds.

Somehow,
she has drifted through the glass pane,
her tangled hair reaches
the bare branches
of trees.

Outside
reflects inside:
on icy black water
lie petals of a once perfect
white rose.