alone in the library
I open
to autumn
Tag: autumn
in one breath the whole autumn
strip mall
a wild turkey pecks
at a hubcap
fall migration
the growing flock
of binoculars
scattered leaves —
two guitar picks
on the blues man’s headstone
a leaf’s skeleton
tossed by the wind —
those moments
when laughter filled
the garden
autumn sunlight
the old dog unearths
her favorite toy
through autumn leaves a teal-trailed wake of light
autumn cascade —
in and out of the foam
a plastic bottle
bow, if you will
marigold’s blossoms
dried brown
late autumn walk
the many paths
I could have taken
October chill
the silence in this shadow
homeless …
a plastic bag drifts
across the sidewalk
migrating geese
rising
out of my chair
autumn afternoon—
an empty shopping cart
waits at the bus stop
dusk—
ten thousand blackbirds
and no place to park
a yellow leaf
describes the course
of the wind
amid fallen leaves
a business card
still doing its job
in the pool
of the ruined resort
the wild ducks
leaving the Tokyo subway,
a hundred umbrellas
rise in unison
dead birds at the base
of the lit skyscraper
autumn midnight
Buddha eyes—
a hunchbacked woman sweeps
the temple steps
juncos black
silhouettes in birch trees
notes on a tangled clef
frost on the furrows
up to the vanishing point—
sunrise
he thinks again of turning leaves her hands
autumn leaves
lipstick red
her brand new path to herself
light falling everywhere in its own place — summer’s end
migrating geese—
wind flaps the scarecrow’s
empty sleeves
leaves changing a language i can’t fully grasp
Skype—
my parents describe
the harvest moon
how do they manage
migrating geese taking only
their shadows
scenic route
i brake
for a maple leaf