November 6

by Michael Cowan   Nov 13, 2012


The wind screams
and smothers a leaf
to the ground.
a past-life waits
to be found. But,
it won't.

it will be a life/
death
heard, but unseen.
heard, but forgotten.
and before long buried
under fallen snow.

the sun will come
again.
in the spring.
to melt the snow,
to bring new life.

it will reveal the ground
where the leaf once slept
amongst a bed of leaves. But,
now they've vanished.
Like the years before and,
well,

who knows where they've gone?

It's like
the wind stores air for death,
and...
that's that.

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