now that no leaves trap
and hold the light close.
Darkness falls, dense
and cold as snow,
chokes off
the sparrows' song,
covers up the roads—
as if some motor
in the center of the planet
were broken
and the whole thing
quit spinning;
some weight,
once imbued with the lightness
of motion
has been loosed upon
our souls, and it now threatens
never to leave.
