Saturday, June 18, 2016

Follow You Home (II)

 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.

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