Taking Aim at the Last Leaf A few brown leaves hang down Dingle-dangle from the twigs In an instant that is never the last one At the taut core of you I am taking aim It is dead silent Sparsely the autumn wind is out of its wits It’s like nothing ever happened Me too had exactly the same thought An erect thumb at a right angle from a forefinger The rest of the fingers clenched focusing I see the..
