On Our Porch
You say it hurts to see
the tree behind our garden bed
turn yellow. It’s too soon,
autumn knocking at our door.
Back home, my family had
a Chinese elm that sometimes
called fall in early. A prophesy,
the days of school way too near.
I thought that tree would
never die. Also thought
that I’d spend my days
in Washington School forever,
writing book reports
on Sunday afternoons until
I turned ninety. An ice storm
killed the tree. I grew up and got
a degree in confusion. Today,
yellow leaves increase.
I feel them falling inside me.