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.