I work here, in my studio, peering over my laptop
through these panes of antique glass,
noting the way hours change things.
Near the start of October, on a whim,
I decided to photograph the view in a series,
spanning time. Over the course of a few days
I fell in love with a particular leaf that danced
at the farthest tip of a branch
directly across from my window. It was broad
and healthy and green and loved the wind.
Last Sunday I blinked and it had turned bold yellow.
This morning I blinked and it was burnt orange ,
and now the last one on its branch.
I snapped its picture, then dashed off to run
the day’s errands. And when I returned,
it was gone.
Isn’t it interesting, I said to myself,
how the end of even a maple leaf’s dance
can leave such a void in your heart.