AUTUMN AFTERNOON

AUTUMN AFTERNOON

This autumn afternoon
I'm waiting near
a short, grey street.

Grey-growling cars
go creeping by.

And under cold, grey sky
one lone, newspaper leaf,
half-crumpled and abandoned,
is dancing fitfully
in southern, ice-tipped breezes.

In our ephemeral creation
the wordy tidings of the tide
of yesterday already wash
upon tomorrow's desolation.