November hymnal (5)
The leaves alight with morning rain fall
straight like skimming stones thrown
wrong light as our names like our lives
they did not have too far to fall
On the morning air your soul floats
over the frost newly alone leaves
a scattered gritty rainbow reaching
for the one color it can’t contain
Blue soul blue sky blue frost
like all the memories of laughter
Translations from the English 
Such an unexpected, seemingly contradictive, medley of words, which turn out to work just so perfectly well. Yeah; that’s really beautiful.
Took me a while to figure out what I think it meant, too! Thank you.
I write that way, often. I think many people do, as well. It works out well, that way.
Sometimes it comes down to a word choice which seems to anticipate the poem’s most authentic direction and meaning. In this case it was the last word of the poem.
It was the last line, especially.
wonderful