Suddenly Foreign

Beautiful Mom,

laughing, loving sun

around whom my earth spun. 

Not a linguist,

but translator of all. 

When she averted her face,

sunset came too soon,

darkness descended

(though it was still day),

the air stung with cold,

and shadows stalked

gardens once lit by tulips

smiling at the sky,
dancing in the summer breeze. 

When I turned to look for her,

I gasped to see

her once warm place

usurped by Winter --
every face on the disappearing horizon

now completely

untranslatable.