Newly fallen golden leaves join
leaves of years past, now stiff and brown.
There was a time when they were fresh and green,
their place made possible
by other golden leaves that, in time,
released their hold and found a new place
in the ever-changing order of things.
There is a carpenter in me with an impressive tool belt. She thinks she can fix everything. Every time there’s a leak in the ducts, she blames that darn condensation, and whips out her metallic tape. And when there’s a heart break, she mumbles something about not meeting code, then takes…
I want to meet each moment
as a friend.
My presence is needed.
(With thanks to Sylvia Boorstein)
When I default to blame,
I fail to see
“de” fault may lie with me.