Crescendo

THE LIGHT 1

Three o’clock, about two hours of light left,
glorious on the ornamental pear,
some leaves grizzled dark red.
The large leaves of what we think is
mock orange—yellow again, as when they first
appeared—and will soon fall.

I’ll miss you so much when you’re gone.
I’d miss you if I looked away
or if a cloud covered the sun.
I miss this moment
as it goes on happening.

THE LIGHT 2

That little tree,
leaves now grizzled
gold and dark
red, is past
all transaction—
stiff in crescendo,
praising no one.

The gold my people
razed the world for—

cashed out there.