Mid-afternoon, my old watch stopped,
Long autumn and the flame maple leaves still
Mostly green; ginkgo gold, that most ancient
Of trees, leaves strewn prodigally.  Ah, golden
Light, mother and daughter and I all in one house,
Reading or writing in leaf-dappled rooms:
Daughter's childhood bedroom turned
Into a study, the shadow of leaves echoing
My childhood—a study that became my bedroom,
Later, my own baby's crib in sunshine.  Circle on,
Shadow of light on leaves: bare boles, blue
Skies of now, yesterday, always, never…
The leaf will never leave the branch, the pages
Turn, words on mere paper stir, hold forever.