Sunday ~ December 20, 2015

A flurry of leave at at the window
like those calender pages flying
in old movies
to indicate time passing,
and it is passing,
though where it's going
nobody seems to know.
Something is always lost
and something found -
an earring or the key
to a certain door,
to some second self.
I watch as energy and matter
bow and switch places,
as last year's leaves appear
and disappear again.

( Linda Pastan, 1932 -   )