leaving more tea? island

and you,

i set out

for a walk,

a bag of books

for the book stand

and then that small


at the river

to check the gold barometer

of fall.

so many autumns


i stand here

leaning and looking

at gray sky and brown water

through the scattered yellow


of this tree

so gallant in its inability

to wander from its roots.

yet with sorrow´s

sudden sinking


i see

this year´s crop of gold

ripped with holes where bugs have bitten,

and as if to ease the pain

i take liberties

with the last of the white roses.

i touch one.


that is for a poet

who in this moment

feels the frail heart

of humanity.


2 thoughts on “frail heart

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