Fallen leaves make dapples

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Fallen leaves make dapples

in the moonlight on the terrace,

and the silence falls as heavy

as a leaden Sunday downpour,

for in the nimble silver

of the moonlight in the garden,

there is sadness where the rose bloomed

and now only hookéd thorns shine,

and the dapples swarm like gravespots,

and the silence cracks in cloudbursts

of lead pearls, cold tears, quicksilvered.

In the forest

In the forest a leaf falls

And feeds the snail

That feeds the thrush

That the fox takes to feed her cubs.

 

In the forest a tree falls

And the fox wakes

To catch a rabbit sniffing green shoots

So the shoots grow.

 

The rain from the ocean pours

And the earth drinks

Feeding the shoot

That grows to a tree.

 

In the shade of the tree

Fox lies where snails glide

Watching the rabbits

While the thrush sings.

 

The sun shines

The rain falls

And the ocean rolls

While in the shade of a tree

Young foxes tumble

Among the first falling leaves.

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