• From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • Date: Sun, 9 Nov 2008 14:13:11 -0600

Sorry, I'm breaking my own rule about sending revisions, but what the hell, you 
only go around once in life, but you can go around all you want with a poem.  


A week ago the Gingko leaves
shone yellow through and through
it was as though their clarion glow
came of inner luminescence.
Now comes this show of letting go --
autumn's very essence.

Skies so blue they startle you,
no more the washed-out hue of summer,
as gusts of wind send leaves from trees
like bursts of joyous laughter. 
But in a week, maybe two, 
there will ensue a seasonal hereafter:
skeletal trees and brown, riven leaves,
unshriven, driven like refugees
from an advancing army. 

Oh, see them flee.
See them flee.
Brought to their knees
with pitiable pleas
a whole generation of leaves
Everything ends.
But then,
it all begins 

Mike Geary

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