Last Leaves
LAST LEAVES
Shriveled and dried and near death
The leaves depart the branches and spin to the ground,
In the the vortices of the autumn chills, to be swirled
And swept into piles ignominious
In shallow hollows windless
Of the bare garden, girding itself for the loneliness of winter.
An old man sits huddled on the bench,
Face pinched with the cold,
Smoothing and re-smoothing a photo
Of a lost wife who took her last leave
At the end of summer, departing ignominiously,
Fainting and injuring her head in the street :
And he prepares himself for the winter of his loneliness.
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