Friday, November 16, 2007


Watching a dead leaf float by...
what kind of thing is THAT to do?
Is it Spleen
or is it some
species of selfishness
that makes a person stop
watch the drift,
clicking away at a shutter,
clicking away at a keyboard,
clicking away to a new window,
deserving the world full of clicks,
part of it,
just as we are part
of that floating leaf,
never knowing
how far our shadow reaches?

1 comment:

reading_is_dangerous said...

how far our shadow reaches?

I'd say, as far as the last wall, the last ground, the last surface.

nice poem.