After Tu Fu

It’s peaceful to sit in my garden,
to sit with the lilies,
the bluebells and hibiscus.
But the leaves now harden,
and shadows like ashes
cover the roses.
The birds’ nest is empty.
They seek kinder weather.
Soon all will be smothered
by ice and snow. One leaf
clings to its branch,
but it soon will go.
My wife is dead. Death
changes everything.
The leaf doesn’t know it.
Is it better to know?
One’s life is a task.
Questions without answers
are better left unasked.