THE LAST TIME


I took a walk
through the woods
before the leaves fell
for the last time.
I heard them
glistening and shaking
getting ready
to fall.
It’s the season for it
after all.

I saw the light shining
on the leaves of grass
getting ready
to push soft spikes
in between the fallen,
saw the light
shining
through the trees
lighting up the white crosses
chalked on the trunks
crosses lined up
as in the fields of a cemetery
after that war to end wars.

Too many white crosses
ready now
to mark the graves
of those about to fall.
It’s the season for it
after all.

It’s always the season for it,
we’ll wait forever for that last time.

https://poetsonline.org/archive/arch_lasttime.html

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