Rising Leaves

The leaves that tumble
to the fall chill, to land
at the base of the oak:
the bright, the brown, the crisp, the cracked,
the broken and the whole assemble, layer on layer,
freezing the world between their veins
like lace. Dancing in the wind,
the lines of leaves kick up;
the lines of leaves settle down
into a semi-circle stack
at the base of their mother,
their warm-light protector.

But in the frost-lined night,
the ground and air are mirrors: they are still
aloft, the children of the woods,
listening to the humming of her branches,
carrying the light from her heart
to one another, in an unbroken canopy.


To Be a Star

Little flame flickers
It jumps along heart-lines;
One light shapes blazes.

Like hearts in the sky,
One star makes constellations
when each calls the next.