Poem #88

Out of the woods…

A westerly wind wafts through the trees,
“Throw out your lousy leaves!”

And orange and red and yellow and brown
our inspiring ill creature continually fathoms
what length of loss to fall, to dive,
to breach the bedrock bottoms
the doctors and their diagnoses rhymed
with down.

Sunshine, even from November glum,
dries a puddle–

in which our autumn litter
will deliquesce and amalgam with chill
and out of its erosion replenish the soil.
O how devine, the dirt.
Fortuitous at the forest fallow,
hearing what is loose and dead twitch and diminish
underneath our feet.

And out of the woods what brown grass forms a bar
on the going and coming of a stream-like street.

Advertisements

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