The Mockery of Falling Leaves

Their rustling skirts 
Had quieted
Wherein before
They’d rioted
Across the 
Concrete drive

There I’d done it
Seized the chance
After the wind 
Had ceased its dance
Across the
Concrete drive

I’d applied some
Wind of my own
A regular
Hand held cyclone
Across the
Concrete drive

Now perfectly
Still and pristine
One might adjudge
“To the bone clean”
Across the
Concrete drive

But one need only
Turn his back
There’ll be swirling 
Leaves of no lack
Across the
Concrete drive

Drifting down with a
Clattering crackle
Triumphing o’er me
With a soft cackle
Filling the
Concrete drive.


Contemplating the Abyss

The abyss
Is anything simpler
Than this?
Putting together
Endless lists
Of things that may
Or might go wrong
Thinking too much
And losing sleep
Things seeming such
Your peace won’t keep
At straws you clutch
And take the leap
When hope’s at bay
You don’t belong
At end of day
Can you croak the song?