The frost's hard touch
the ultimate caress
and in the morning's sunny grasp
loosed
the leaves rained down
the ultimate caress
and in the morning's sunny grasp
loosed
the leaves rained down
and fell upon the ground
with a gravity
beyond their weight
they rained as I rushed past
in the cold solid air
with a gravity
beyond their weight
they rained as I rushed past
in the cold solid air
just a day ago!
the rapture of color
brilliant and
I rolled down my window
and called to the trees
compelled by the exquisite pleasure
of their being
the rapture of color
brilliant and
I rolled down my window
and called to the trees
compelled by the exquisite pleasure
of their being
"Tree!"
and I would sound some exclamatory
paean to the height, the spreading
of limbs
and they portraying
majestic trajectories
of growth
into space
and I would sound some exclamatory
paean to the height, the spreading
of limbs
and they portraying
majestic trajectories
of growth
into space
the frost's hard touch
put an end to the rapture of
saturated depths
the colors that enthralled
fallen
the rapture of that brilliance
the subtle grading of orange into red
and red into bronze
the sheer profusion of yellow and
magenta
turned overnight
into brown crinkled remnants
and fallen blankets
put an end to the rapture of
saturated depths
the colors that enthralled
fallen
the rapture of that brilliance
the subtle grading of orange into red
and red into bronze
the sheer profusion of yellow and
magenta
turned overnight
into brown crinkled remnants
and fallen blankets
how so like life
my life .. yours
the raptured flight of our souls'
ecstase
and the dull and gravitous remnant
afterwards
... in the afterwards, like a wake
rippling
reflecting
behind the fleet that vanished
over a horizon
sparking, then releasing
and falling into
the dark winter stillness
the trees endure
and their branches with leaves remaining
or fallen
stout trunks that rise no less into the tallest air
and we,
our lives a growth of trunk and limb
and our leafing out and
our falling down
each to our small epiphany
perhaps
a sighing out
and a being, into
the
raked
naked
surplice
of the field
and their branches with leaves remaining
or fallen
stout trunks that rise no less into the tallest air
and we,
our lives a growth of trunk and limb
and our leafing out and
our falling down
each to our small epiphany
perhaps
a sighing out
and a being, into
the
raked
naked
surplice
of the field
