Paper Leaves

Last night
the wind came, swept beneath
all thoughts I had
of holding on.

And so it goes,
we all must fall,
the ground looks different
from up here.

You danced across
the window, dear,
behind the pane,
though not alone.

And now it seems
so long ago
I watched you open
toward the sun.

I can’t remember
how it felt
to be so green,
to be so young.

We’re changed,
not what we used to be,
we’re somehow lighter,
paper leaves.

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Harvest Eclipse

Each year, I forget
how fearless
the eloquence of autumn,
these cell-humming yellows
that shatter the sky
in the sepia sunlight
of Septembers.

Again, winter is coming-
moving our bodies,
yours and mine,
one turn closer
toward that final night.
And despite this endless wheel,
or perhaps because if it,
my heart reaches up to the heavens
and erupts into one million
unexpected stars.

Give me the quiet
of a blood red moon,
pregnant in its proximity,
and no less sublime
for the darkness
it has become.

New Moon Haiku

Everything I have
ever loved will become dust,
will become the sea.

May the things I have
seen, never become unseen.
May change come from this.

So many endings,
yet enough life left here to
hold each other up.

Beneath the dark moon,
tell me your deepest truth, and
I will tell you mine.

Late Autumn Morning

Morning Mist-Kit Hevron Hahoney

Painting:  Morning Mist by Kit Hevron Mahoney

Onetime oranges
and auburns melt
into the rising

landscape. There is
no denying
that the world 

is past the change.
But as you
find stillness 

beneath softened
mountaintops,
something new

emerges quietly –
perhaps it is
the knowledge

of your own two feet,
and not of what has grown,
but rather, of what

has fallen away,
leaving you
the blessed opportunity

to be filled with
nothing but this
impeccable daybreak.