poem

 Cannon Drive

Did you see that leaf
Just now in the windshield?
Big and floppy, translucent cinnamon
Wafting in the blue afternoon 
The way undulating ocean
Creatures seem majestically alive.

Everything slowed to a stop.

Only the leaf was moving.

We’ll be home soon, I thought,

My stomach roller-coastering from 

The dipping hill on Cannon Drive.

It’s important not to think

Of it as having landed

And worse to imagine 

The moment just before its release.

Think of a lousy hotel Bible.

Imagine your mother’s face 

When you were eleven

And you realized for the first

Time how everything

For her hinged on you.

Weak November sun
Dappling thin rippled skin

Of the recently fallen
Like pages of scripture
Backlit by a flickering candle
Just strong enough to get through

11/21/21