How does this go?
by scott from jail

Small leaves, the very last of summer,
Haven't dropped from the plum tree outside
The winter accumulates force, and soon
All the wind's cold
Ratchetting down upon us will say
To me, to us,
How Does This Go Again

The last leaves will fall
Splaying the crazy, stilted lines of black branches
Cracking into grey ice-bound time
Yearning, longing, heaving, sighing
Waiting silently for that scrimped up
Patch of brown beneath the snow-clad stick of a young plum tree
To ask regarding March,
How Does This Go Again?

Copyright © 2011 - scott from jail
Published: 5/19/11   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem