Thursday, October 24, 2019

autumn morning

how can ordinary words
describe the sunlit undersides of geese,
or how the swamp maple,
in the first blush of dawn,
thrusts an implausible pink trunk
into the sky?

exactly which upper
and lower case letters will allow you to
feel the bite of the first frost
on your carelessly bare feet
skipping through the wet fire
to the sound of syncopated honks?

hours from now
unless these observations are
fixed on the open sky of the page
who will understand how your
shadowed footprints melted
into the dying grass
or how the great birds were swallowed
by the rising light?