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 
Just lovely, Bob.
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Thank you, Cate!
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Melancholy shared in poetry.
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Poetry seems to be a good vessel for melancholy.
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Yes
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Oh, that was mesmerizing. “…tiny sorrows ratcheted in sequence above the cracked well casing…” The imagery of these lines made my heart sigh!
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Thank you, A. Perveen. Much appreciated! I’m so pleased the words resonated.
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Pain earns no entrance due to its hurtful circumstances meted out to the individual involved. It therefore needs no entry in one’s life.
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