It was a leaf red or orange or
golden as an autumn day that brushed
against my hair as we wandered
up the road that landed
in my hair there in the orchard
on the road toward home
while we were walking
It was a leaf caught on a cold damp
wind whipping off the bay
caught in tangled branches on
a golden autumn day
as we made our way toward home
the lane was dappled
by the sun and a leaf caught
in my hair there in the orchard
on the road toward home
where we were walking
It was a not a leaf
caught in my wind-tossed hair
that web of gold bleached by
the summer sun and not a leaf
that brushed against me
as we made our slow way home
there amid the apple trees
when I reached up
to brush a leaf away
It was a wasp
busy doing what wasps will do
on the just-cool brink of fall
who stung me
as most wasps will too when
one assumes they are just leaves
caught up in wind-whipped hair
who stung me there
between my fingers
in the unkempt orchard we passed
through on the road toward home
when we were walking
© 2020 by Hannah Six
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