This was the week...just in time for Thanksgiving.
The road we take to church
Is filled with gold
Every spring,
Every fall.
Spring
It’s forsythia.
Fall
It’s ginkgo.
Almost as if
Everyone on Main Street
Got together
Decided
What to plant
Years and years and years
Ago.
Ginkgoes drop
All their leaves
At once.
Ginkgoes everywhere.
My beloved says
There’s a ginkgo central
In the air
Underground.
It says Now
Do it now.
Gold leaves dropped
Now
All at once.
No more gold
On Main Street
Until forsythia
In the spring.
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