Hair crowned by dewy rain at the point of molecule
snowflakes
Hands deep within the shallow pockets like a mole hole
Stepping from the slick street onto the curb holds an
unsteady weight
As though the concrete sand hungers for a greedy flagpole
I find myself set upon the long way home, serendipitous
Basking longer in the lunar-hued glow of Heaven’s will
washed down
Brief hesitation, and I stoop to scoop up a handful of
leaves
Tiny russet brown ones, curled like chocolate shavings on a
cake
Cupped in my hand, the struts of a pale Noah’s ark about
their ebbing fragility
They are safely borne to a new world in the name of
memorabilia
For a day like this, with such a rain, such a mist on the
mountains
Would be unjustly dealt with to receive no lasting memory
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