I keep sensing this thing
The leaves are whispering
something about it right now.
I imagine that when they all
make a sound together like this,
each vibrating in a crisp binding
they have built in this last season of the light–
one they never knew would lead to this–
they hear a sound so beautiful
they flood with joy and forget at last
to hold on.
This is how Love guides itself.
Holiness rises like a flood
to dissolve what only seemed to be.
The leaves drop to the earth.
They are already gone.
It was the sound of each other they heard,
ringing each in each–
the sound of never-ending,
the sound of what
was only ever