i've never liked these dried up brown
giant ferns in autumn
till now-
till now-
but i told myself to look
LOOK
and suddenly my world lit up
the papermill danced
in searing descending sun
leaving a wild
and peculiar
shadow on the maples
sunset behind a bank of clouds
that brought no rain
and this odd mint, perhaps
(the hint a squared stem)
hugs goldenrod
much of which
is passing or has seeded entirely
a basswood seed
and her propeller leaflet
a sail for a small freight
payload of seeds
to please sophie.
and wendy looks my way
supper, perhaps, she's thinking
now, please.
now, please.