Prayers falling

Prayers falling.

 

 

I am afraid of the next leaf falling,

     and it is autumn.

Limbed red leaves shimmer anticipation

into the still-yet-to-be coming breath.

 

My own thoughts flicker past

the line of trees, past the gray distant crown,

hills sleeping brown and green.

 

Some voice contemplates the next word.

 

Within my own chest that wind begins to tug

and I know I have no chance but to meet

the next face that comes falling to me.

 

1998 © Neil Reid