Direct sunlight flattens the sepia leaves
               of the autumnal crepe myrtle
 
          An opaque matte brown, the pointed ovals
               rustle in the breeze
 
          Oh, they are beautiful enough, forming a delicate
               pattern of leaf and frond
 
          But when the sun’s radiance shines through them
               transforming them into the panes of a chapel window
 
          Ah, then they become magical
               glowing rich russet and rose and mahogany
                    a glory of sacred glass
                         revealing the divine foundations
 
          Of everything
 

In memory of my mother:
One Crossing
Too Late
Beacons Unreachable
Upwelling
Missing Her
Grievous Loss