Saturday, August 14, 2010

What After (for Ruth)

In a motionless thicket, a single leaf
twists, as if two fingers roll its stem,
then stops. It twists again and drops.

In a tree, broken branches held aloft
by stubborn bark sway on a pendulum
wider than the solid branches swing.

Most things blaze before they die.
Stars nova and sunlight is an
incandescent exhalation.

What after? What, after my last
shiver through, do I want there to be?
Leaf, branch, star, sun, and you.

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