Bird shadows pass on
clapboard like storms, on sidewalk
and street like storms. They say a man dropped
out of a plane, 9000 feet to Texas.
Small flames in the orchard, yellow leaves on
McIntosh limbs defy November’s decree.
At night a 10:50 phone call and my mind imagines
the worst. Brook water murmurs through
windowpanes: living full of death, living faced
with life. Tonight the Leonid meteor shower
is blocked by an overcast sky, still
thousands of particles plunge through space, trailing
their glowing dust.