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I moved a dirt clod
with my big toe
down a line of
cratered cement
the pieces
rolled
and fell into place
and place came around
I picked an acorn
with no hat
bald and no
facial expression
a blank stare
put in my pocket
a saw a two bird
V
geese gossiping
mad enough
to leaVe form
and colon ize
I caught one
leaf sliding down
a draft
a crispy curled
loner free fall
onto my life line
the big dipper
emptied a
ladle of frost
all over everything
crystal cool silver
plated night
Gerald the Writer 
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