free fall

(a little meditation on retirement)

as if I deserved it
the whole forest turns
gold, light enters
on a daring slant
leaves flame in the swamp
the beaver dam barely
holds back tons
of shining water

time that was never
mine, is now

in July monotonous
ranks of worker
leaves made sticky
molecules
for mother tree

one October sunrise
the work of holding on
is complete
I hold my breath
to fly between
unclasping and the
anonymous pile below

This poem was published in Peregrine XXIV, 2006