Leaves don’t fall; time just runs

them through the ringer. Colors

run into the ground, water runs

them away as God recedes for

Good, and we know everything when

we’re helpless with the power

to blind ourselves with the power

to see it’s not right and deny it’s not

right now. We will make a choice

as the colors change and the vein

stays the same; we will change

the world as the leaves fall.

(Below: “New Jersey” skeletonized on a maple leaf, by a bug. — for my Jersey friends)