Midday heat
the slow downward spiral
of a leaf
black butterfly
wings still damp
from the tomb
cooling breeze
the black-throated green warbler’s
other song
Poems on the topic: leaf
Poems on the topic “leaf” on Poets.by.
Losing Maizy
Maizy the terrier had always traveled in circles — around the park, around the block, around the garden — but toward the end her circles tightened drastically till they occupied no more than a corner of the kitchen. She no longer recognized her own front door and became utterly lost. Except, it seems, on the lap of her life-long companion, my partner Rachel. Her fits become more frequent and prolonged, each time leaving her a bit more impaired. Finally Rachel made the agonizing decision to have her euthanized. She found a vet who made house calls, and when the time came, held Maizy as if she were an infant while the drugs kicked in. Rachel said she felt her relax all over, and then, a few seconds later, simply stop breathing.
Autumn Metropolis
peace garden
the nonresistance
of leaves
back alleys
it’s not whether but how
we go to seed
The Hollow (13)
downy rattlesnake
plantain leaves
always a start
still twisted
from its rush to leaf out
lady’s-slipper orchid
the blue-headed vireo’s
vireo vireo
sounds blue now
pale pipes scorched
and straightened by sex
corpse plants
The Hollow (1)
autumn equinox
a mosquito takes its first steps
walking on water
where water sits
at the head of the hollow
a bench for reflection
the not-rightness of it
this vernal pool collecting
autumn leaves
ecdysis
empty husks of former lives
sink into the mud
Leaf Letter [screenplay]
Dear
ground,
thank you for
always being there
for us. In my dreams,
sometimes you aren’t and
I go on falling until I wake.
Thank you for letting us sleep.
Thank you for your enormous
reserves of darkness, which
we have been burning to
keep the darkness at
bay, ashes to ashes.
Thank you for
letting us
all fall
First hot day
Huge tulip poplars
holding tiny leaves to the light,
each with its four incisors—
the sun doesn’t stand a chance.
Already it’s staging a sunset
on the back of my neck
as I crouch down
to puzzle over the maze of roads
on a yellow morel.
Risen
The sun slips over
the gray pelt of a vole zipping
from one hole to another
and catches on a distant gleam
of frost-heaved flotsam,
luring me to go look.
A beer bottle at the base of a tree
rests in a cradle of leaves,
bluer than the sky.
Harbingers
After months under snow,
last autumn’s leaves
barely stir in the wind,
pressed flat as ears
to the forest floor.
Surely they know what’s coming.
Stones lie askew.
Whatever is beneath them shows no sign
of resting in peace.
Slush
Slush: the mellifluous sound
the tires make
just before they start spinning.
Soft snow banks
are treacherous as Loreleis,
pulling the unwary driver in.
I steer gingerly with windows down,
listening to the welcome hiss
of leaves and mud.
Burning the tissues
In a snow-bound ring of stones,
I am burning all the tissues
from my recent cold.
The sun beats down. Fallen twigs
and leaves are melting themselves
into form-fitting graves.
A flat wing of ash floats up
and hangs in the air
like a famous last word.
Leaving
A falling leaf
reversed course
& flew.
It sailed up
over the trees
& didn’t stop until
it reached a forest
inside a cloud
in Panama.
You were left
with a double loss:
of the leaf it wasn’t
& of the bird it was.
On the ground
where the leaf
would’ve settled,
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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