turning of a leaf

a turn
over to
the quiet end
of day

inside
the
racket of in—
decision
the flux—the
flood—the
fire—the
formless
fumble—the
fucking full of it…

purposely hushed
under
the dove wing
white washed
feather me bed of—
simple
acceptance

outside
a leaf gives itself
over
to the
wind—the
whirl—the
whipping—the
worry at the tender
tether

a spiral
fall
from
high held standing
turning graceful
comfortable
grounded

psgates