Thursday, October 29, 2015

the rising leaves

the swirl of leaves,
a tumble
of orange
and yellow rising
on the playground
empty
and cold
beside the brick school,
the light now less,
everyone is home,
or going
there. how kind
the world
is
to have the children
young.
to have the parents
at the stove,
at the table,
near enough to hold.

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