Poem After The Election
- At November 18, 2016
- By drynick
- In Reflections
0
Golden trees illuminate
the Temple garden.
I trudge alone
toward the rising dead leaf pile
dragging the blue tarp
laden with dry brown leaves—
this season’s generous offering
of what is no longer needed.
Solo yellow leaves still ease
downward today,
fully determined
to disappear back
into the dark source
of life. This year my father too
vanished, as did a precious
friend, and a dream I had
about my country. I keep trying
to remember to keep my head
up to see the beauty that is
undisturbed in the midst
of these predictable
and staggering losses.
Each trip to the leaf pile
a pilgrimage into
the golden world.
Follow David!