I wrote this poem on a scrap of paper way back at the beginning of September, which seems to be my way...grabbing the closest scrap of paper and scratching out my thoughts while they pour out of my head unbidded. Be it receipts, grocery lists, or magazines no surface is safe. Over the years I know that I have lost many poems to my disorganized ways, but this time fate was on my side...my note resurfaced and I was able to relive the moment...
September Comes
I saw a leaf fall today
It took but a moment
There were no mourners, priests, or last rites
to send him on his way.
My eyes followed-the only witness
watching as he found
his place among his ancestors
their dust gently rising up
to greet him-
Welcome My Son
Still as stone he lay
Gazing up at his brothers
willing them to
Come.
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