If You Drop Leaves
If you drop leaves when she walks by,
does that signify grief for those
cut down early,
or merely drought?
How easily we abandon and forget.
Yet a whiff of lemon verbena or the light
bouncing from a passing Ford
can call them back,
tiny sorrows ratcheted in sequence
above the cracked well casing
but below the shingles
and near the dwindling shade
tracing its outline on the lawn.
And what do you whisper
alone at night within sight
of sawn and stacked siblings?
Do you suffer anger by way
of deadfall or absorption,
bark grown around and concealing
a penetrating nail, never shedding
tears, never sharing one moment
with another. Offered condolences,
what might you say? Pain earns no
entrance. Remit yourselves.
“If You Drop Leaves” was published at Bad Pony in November 2017. Many thanks to editor Emily Corwin for taking this piece.
O at the Edges 
beautiful –
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much, Beth!
LikeLike
Deep reflections on time and memory
LikeLiked by 1 person
Trees do that to me. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on CRAIN'S COMMENTS and commented:
A thoughtful poem on a number of different levels.
Remember, if your life is all about work, you’re not human.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for reblogging, Vic.
LikeLike
This could be about so many things! I am fascinated with the image. Wondering if you tweak poems to suit a chosen image (the “she”) … wondering about “light bouncing from a passing Ford” (sunlight? headlights?) This feels rural to me; yet comparable trimmings occur in urban landscapes. Abandoned-then-regained memories triggered by environmental encounters are a universal puzzle worth pondering.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I tweak poems to suit images, or to carry multiple resonances, or to simply make it sound better. I’m more concerned with the truth of the poem, as opposed to the fact of the story or initial impulse. The light bouncing off the Ford could be sunlight flashing from chrome or the mirrors, or even headlights – whatever the reader feels. The setting is open to interpretation, especially since I have both suburban and rural properties, and write about both often. Even when I think I know what I’m doing, I frequently find out that I don’t. 😀
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ah, yes, facts of any story are largely a matter of individual interpretation anyhow – even for those involved directly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s a wonder that any two observations of the same thing ever match!
LikeLiked by 1 person