Rogelio Bello
These falling leaves,
Lindens, Elms, Oaks, Hickories,
ovate, oblong,
coarse and jaded,
swift and swaft about many an axis,
traversing a great blue void
whose radiant energy
is impaled into
the embers of these
former living beings.
Once more these leaves will
fill and flood the road of Morning Glory
so that great bodies
of metal and plastic
reinvigorate and transgress
their momentum and inertia
into a dance
of twisting, crushing, crumbling and
decomposing micro-states, like dreams
whose former height
in space and time
is no longer a possibility.
Once more, these leaves
will show their true
colors at the last
second, before the
all-seeing
omnipresent eye.
Once more,
I am going to watch the leaves fall with you this morning
behind the aging concrete building,
and inevitably, the children will be playing in the Maple and
Lilac,
the elders gazing at the Hawthorn and Rowan.