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1
On American nights,
the trees light the way.
Owing to the lateness of the hour,
rivers disappear entirely.
.
You may read by the branches.
There is blossoming and purpose.
There is blossoming and purpose and breaking.
Steeples underwater as soul extends toward morning.
.
2
It should be summer speaking to us,
but it is autumn.
Leaves drift into the falls
and turn silver.
.
It is telling us something
we can only imagine.
We’re sharing your sorrow.
Words are not enough.
.
Our hearts go out.
Our hearts are saddened.
Autumn has enough on its mind.
Winter is left with the lousy job
.
and it does not disappoint.
.
3
It is what it is, many say. What if it is
not what it is, I ask, what if it is something else altogether?
—
Copyright 2015 Leonard Gontarek
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Excellent poem, Leonard
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