A falling leaf has the intelligence of the universe.
The bodies that pass in the sun are ghosts.
The visible world glimmers in a mirror.
The light is raining sparks. It's quiet
As the black bird's white wings wave across the grass.
The eucalyptus is draped with the memory
Of every predecessor tree
Peeling from the veil as it dissolves.
The leaves have assumed such age in such a short season.
The seeds have turned so red with hidden beaming.
The tangled vines are the arc of thought
Turning in on itself,
Yet the sun makes a pattern
Through the canopy of branches
That the wind turns into a story.
The olive trees shiver in an uncanny portrayal of pain.
But seeing into things does not reveal their meaning
Only how far off the shadows are
As they move ever closer.
It's silence you're inside, a thought thinking.
Oh we don't know what has happened!
We only know that, when it came time
To predict the future
We were wrong,
As we always are.
