Phantom #9

Americans need to think more about death. 
             —Somebody on the internet

1. 
Chilly day, just enough sun 
to melt the top inch of grass,

soften the trail enough 
to make it tear away

at a sudden turn. 
Passage of deer and rabbits

still inscribed in the moss 
as if I suddenly awoke to them.

2. 
So much I miss. What words 
for a thousand shades of brown,

for the way each leaf has found 
to its temporary rest?

3. 
Seemed I was walking 
for a long time. Then before me

small leaves on the path 
were like chimes

in the low light 
like spilt coins

like torn-up programs 
from last year’s game

like glittering promises 
from the other side.