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Before the leaves were crushed underfoot

A sudden gust of wind
and through a shiver
I see a tree explode
sparklike leaves shaken free
a wide brimmed hat blocks the view
but I see enough
to see the spiral of autumnal decay
imagine a small whirlwind of draining reds
before the leaves were crushed underfoot
 
 
And I feel anger
at this unwitnessed beauty
I saw little enough and no one
none of the crowds pushing past
laughing, talking, seeing nothing,
stop for a moment
why is no one looking?
 
Later, late, I can barely see the leaves
but I see the irregularly mismatched
contrasting lamplight glow in the air
cold white light piercing presumptions
warm oranges licking at guilt
scattered at seeming randomness
 
And I’m alone in the cold,
heat of my lungs enough to enshroud
in my own localised fog
warm and cold light
soothing my aching limbs
as I fix my attention everywhere
 
Only the sound of traffic
and leaves I can’t hear
disturb my thought:
I want you here

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