August 1984

 

caught in a streamer

flung through o’ercast sky

a spray of leaves

takes flight

 

red

green

gold

 

gently falling

toward the ground

careless circles

scribed in light

blown about

and overlapped

carving the wind

with loop and glide

till in closing

they bump the floor

and rest

 

Ev remarked that she liked

the phrase “carving the wind.”

It seems that poetry is a way

of recording growth as well.