Summer was like your house: you know where each thing stood.
Now you must go out into your heart  as onto a vast plain. Now
the immense loneliness begins.

The days go numb, the wind  sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves.

Through the empty branches the sky remains.  It is what you have.
Be earth now, and evensong.
Be the ground lying under that sky.
Be modest now, like a thing ripened until it is real,
so that he who began it all
can feel you when he reaches for you.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Trees at Bolton Abbey, Moone. Co Kildare