Leaning back while leaves
Are falling, I remember you
With this view, and brush away
Crumbs with the helicopter seeds,
Remnants of lazy games and
A sweet break, the crunchy Tate’s treat
Tasting like cookies that Mama
Baked. She stored them far from our
Reach. Up high in a dented tin that
Kept the deliciousness crisp and sturdy.
Like this beautiful day, when I am again
With you in the wonder of this season
That is yours. Yours of birth and death and
New England. I am watching, waiting, wishing
You were back standing with me in fallout of
Everything. The trees are swaying in the wind.
Leaves take their circuitous path to earth again
They brush against my cheek like a celestial kiss,
Or a postcard from heaven.
© 2015 Anna Mosby Coleman