in
the fall

the tao is what happens of itself
Tao Te Ching

come   now
walk the smooth
garden paths  down 
to shapely long legged ash 
the carousels of their leaves
twirling high over our heads  is
it too much to ask  how their seeds
let go  spun down to wet green banks
alighting   with  others   their questions
never asked  went  unknown  to where the                                         
winds took them    lay down     found homes
within the ground  returning through  indistinct   
rounds  no regret no taint  dwelling in the hours
the haze   not dreaming of other stages   places 
others to hold them  to hear their complaints
how do the trees live with such graces  how
do we know  to unmask our plays  not to                                           
crouch in fear of ending  to beckon
follow  invisible paths in our               
floating days  the vacant
quiet  swirling
ways   

Sandra Dorr  (from This Body of Light, forthcoming, Hope West Press)