Anniversary — turning the year

This year’s poplar leaves are falling,

and today the northwest wind

hastens them along.

One leaf  heaves and jerks

at the end of a bare branch.

It will, of course, yield to the wind’s erratic breath,

or the inevitability of its little weight

but perhaps not  today.

 All timing is so chancy.

 You felt that little off-beat in your heart

almost all your life,

that little valve fluttering hopelessly,

 as you went to ground.

 And this dark wet windy fall,

I wanted to plant spring bulbs

where they planted you

 in that glorious autumn

we all remarked on last year.

 I wanted snowdrops to come

all green and white

 next spring

out of the earth which is cherishing you.

 But the time between desire and action

was too long:

I found there were no snowdrops left on the

shelves to buy.

 

And my heart’s timing, like yours, was off again.

October 15, 2011