Last night the trees changed color while I slept.
One moment at my window: a new world.
Love, do you continue transmuting where you are?

Pandemonium of the color wheel. That raucousness.
Noise the sky can hear I call October falling.
Now, outside, calling you to join me, Love,

I kick the leaf piles wind has pre-arranged.
This is what I want to do with my late seventies,
honor the sky, scatter stained glass on the sidewalk,

follow the path their hues take us, you beside me.
Then, befriend the wind I’d called an enemy,
flatter it a little with the truth.

Wind, you have a longer history than my breath
encircling worlds before they could take shape,
arranging, disarranging, misaligning, to align—