Autumn Thoughts

An end-of-summer sun in March
Surprises me,

Hot prickle after so much rain,

Sweat of my back and snap

of leaves,

I dig the earth to free the roots,

Lie flat and gaze at clouds again,

No telling where or when,

A leaf may fall,

They spin and dive behind my back,

They crackle from the stem,

Cunning in death,

As for the clouds,

Some bunch and fade and tack,

Others like buddhas sit,

So still, as if to take a breath.