These leaves outside my window
are, curiously beautiful. “Curiously”,
because it comes upon me as strange,
after the long darkness, the self-absorption,
fear, and shame in which we have been living-
strange, that things remain beautiful, independent
of our catastrophes, they continue, maintain such
a casual precision, an effortless, essential vigor,
the radiance, abundance.. This tireless, inventive
effect, is simply natural, Nature.. And this day,
this morning- it seems so clear, evident, obvious-
Nature, is alone which exists, without guilt.. My eyes
drift back into the leaves; I am stunned, surrounded
by their radiance, leaves. Oak claws, of a purplish
rust; the elms, like scant feathers in a flaming yellow;
and the sumac, is a savage, erotic blush.. I am upheld
sustained in a serene, and booming universe, of leaves..
Yet something plucks me back, returns me to that inner
darkness; our folly, guilt is much larger, larger than the sun.