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three.

11 February 2008

In a Light Late-Winter Wind

In a light late-winter wind
the oak trees are scattering valentines
over the snow–dark red
like the deep-running, veinous blood
of the married, returning
again and again to the steady heart.

This leaf is yours, friend,
picked from the heart-shaped hoofprint
of a deer. She stood here
under the apple tree during the night,
kicking up sweetness, her great eyes
watching the sleeping house.

i love watching leaves fall–drifting aimlessly towards the ground and then, sometimes, catching an updraft and dancing back toward their homes before succumbing to gravity again. and i love that kooser has turned them into little tokens of love.

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