Poem for the last leaves…

leavesTwelve Bells

Twelve bells. Middle of the middle of October’s night.
Leaves hanging on. They want you to remember
The shade they have provided, the sweet field
They made in the summer sky.

But everybody wants them to look like they will
When they have forgotten everything but dying.

Now in the dark, in the middle of the stirring
Season they can briefly mark
At once what we miss and anticipate:
The green whisper outside the window

That softened the dream of the world’s first cold wind
And when we rise to shut the window

Staring outward in that moment we
Have not yet realized has woken us,
The hard shadow in the moonlit sky already
Edged with the skitter and curl they’ll make

In November’s brown doldrums
Crossing the street with a weightless curse, never to come back.

from Vanishing Tracks

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s