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  • I read my sister’s story and looked
    away and within

    the leaves are falling
    Walter comes each Monday and Wednesday
    He sweeps them up to go in the bin.
    Time after time we have hauled them to the compost pile.
    Time after time he leaves the heavy wheelies at the curb.
    It is a war we will not win,
    not in a land where hedges are pruned
    to lollipops.

    This evening I walked through golden leaves
    crunch and shuffle step
    while softly, softly
    they slipped and tumble fell
    brushing my shoulder

    8,000 miles apart
    And softly, softly
    Your words brushed my shoulder
    And I turned
    Looked away and within

    And Kat I cried
    To remember
    Coming home
    And setting scattered dreams
    Back where they belonged
    Touch log and stone
    Let garden earth slip through my fingers
    Gripped again the oars
    Walked through forests
    dark with spruce
    Walked through forests
    bright with birch and oak
    Leaves all a-rustle
    each a call to say
    I am home.

    I read my sister’s story and looked
    away and within
    And Kat I cried
    To remember
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