Ever recall a memory and there is a thing
underneath it? Like a shadow,
Tonight, the ginkgos will lose their leaves
all at once.
The neighbor’s yard is drying, curling inside itself.
Streets fill with ghosts, all remembering.
Dusk comes quickly, leaves a shadow
on the porch.
A stunned rose has found herself bloomed,
right here in late October.
I want to be told something.
I want wisdom, even if it only sounds like it.
The tomato plants need to be broken the news:
Winter is an old man waiting,
Fall is a teenager following you home.
He may get to the end,
it will surprise him, too.