Poetry: Autumn Leaves

Remember the year a fox

Came through the neighborhood
every afternoon, leaving hungry

tracks through the snow, as sunlight
glinted low against the old oak tree?

We imagined its den near the place
we went sledding when we were children,

the chestnut caves of Pine Orchard’s glacial hills.
Even now, I hear your echo in the restless wolf-

tones of the cello, as the bow draws near the bridge.
I asked you once your favorite sound: mine,

the melodious lapping of our dog at her water,
yours was the fizz of a wave each time as it left the shore,

kissing the sand before parting. Coming and going:
that was always your way. Somewhere,

a honey jar holds your laughter like a bee in resin.
This year, cedar waxwings are nesting in the thicket

where we walked in autumn. At this tangle of sun-gold
and winterberry we’ve arrived again. How did we

reach this place? I recall collecting acorns, wild apples
for baking, tallow candlelight, sun-dried leaves.

A flurry of feathers crashed into the window
one night. Stunned and silent.

Warm hands, placed gently on the hearth,
so beating wings could rest.

This poem was first published in Autumn Sky Poetry in November 2020.