For each of the notes you bring to light –

dipping your fingers into this

and whatever comes next, 

allowing the touches to last

for just so long – a leaf

on the tree in our garden

is taken by the wind.

 

By the time it’s dark I will know quite well

how it goes, how the first few drops of rain

on the final afternoon of November

are only to be expected,

how something begins

when a tree is undressed 

by a song.