And so,
the first breath of autumn
hovering
above the freeway ramp, the breeze
has blown the top of a leafless tree,
all severed head, onto the road
where cars, eager to catch the green,
dodge that bunch of twigs and race.
I too have raced,
and now I race – in head, in heart.
The day begun, its chase in me,
I would be severed
from all that I’ve considered green
to see where I must rest.
