the brown leaves roll crisply

down the street


elude the super's broom and shovel

and now as the dark part


of the year stabilizes and begins

it's slow turn back toward the light


the only shadows remaining

will be mine and they too will fade


once I am no longer a body

blocking the rays of the sun


once I am the motes that dance

in the unstoppable beams


once I am a mere trace of a presence

in the air of the bright day






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