A Late Leaf

This late-falling leaf is not

about human dream or folly.

The drain of chlorophyll and

poetry of twig have proved in truth

this season less harbingers of good

than of the sole cold peace of nature;

but in the end, that peace might still

through our submission show

that within each lone star

there is heat which for its own

reasons, regardless of hope

or suffering, will crack

the germinating seed.