I am gathering up the leaves,
\npiles of brown, yellow, red.
\nI am gathering up memory
\nlike the clothes of a closet
\nbeing picked up, rehung.
\nIt is what I remember
\nwhen the cold gathers in autumn,
\nthe mist of my breath
\ntrailing off,
\nlifting and pushing
\nwhat has accumulated,
\nwhat summer discarded
\nwhen we woke and found the day.<\/p>\n
I find the last flowering jewels
\nscattered,
\ngold and oranges.
\nI wish your hands were here,
\nyour fingers like a vase.
\nI\u2019d put them in your hands,
\nred zinnias,
\npale impatiens,
\nconfused daisies,
\nstubborn dandelions,
\na part of longing.
\nYour hands full of flowers.<\/p>\n
What I would give
\nto fill them with tangible kisses!
\nBut now,
\nI am making a new place
\nfor the sun,
\nto put light into the darkness,
\nto bring them back
\noverflowing with spring,
\nnew life,
\nnew love,
\na new returning for us.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I am gathering up the leaves, piles of brown, yellow, red. I am gathering up memory like the clothes of a closet being picked up,…<\/p>\n