See the pair of us
Raining and morning
the first soft ashes
along the high road
running the far ridge
of pines ripped wild to
timbers by storming
to shreds see the white
shreds like coals like a
sudden sorrow see
the partial moon see
the cut sky see us
serene with singing
are we merry are
we rueful neither
is there sufficient
wording for what falls
all the muffled horns
pleading but too late
along the last route
of what remains can
you see us what can
you see there—lost leaves
waiting to come back
as leaves . . .
Copyright © 2013 by David Baker. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on May 2, 2013. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.