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Archive for October, 2012

so small
the weight
and yet
too much
to hold
and so
it falls
not that
it is
not lovely
not that
it is
not wanted
not that
we could
force the
liberation
just that
it is
time
for it
to fall

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She will not say anything about the aspen,
how they have lost their leaves. She will not
say anything about her own loss. The leaves
underfoot are still gold. She will not mention
helplessness. She is too busy smelling
that October smell that she admires,
loamy and rich, the scent of the world as it dies.

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Golden Tanka

just before they are gone,
I treasure them most,
the aspen leaves—
please let us not
love like that

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