THE TEARS OF ANGELS

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Re slow BIG flake snowfall everywhere wobbling through the near-bare limbs of the woods across the street "many years ago" in Elk Rapids Michigan

The Tears of Angels

Bleached by the fierce conviction
that the autumn wind is no place for them,
these last frail few,
ignoring the ultimatum of their tree,
have curled into slight fists,
now shaking their own demand
in December's darkening face. . .
But against the brittle knuckle 
of each leaf (bent to heaven, little
as a lifetime)
the snowflakes break softly,
unceasingly. . .

 

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