dead
leaves crowd corners
and doorways
wind kicked
and twisted
as we are
down sidewalks

stone steps
let confetti fly
into gutters
and scatter
upon the canals
dappled
as we are
with decay
moted notes
of yellowbrown

when i am old and     move slowly from window to window
when I am old and     my loves have all been collected
when I am old and     each season stuns me

i will wake
every morning
place my feet
on the floor
and breathe
for the first time