Seth Jani

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I want to be still.
Star-like, unperturbed as ice.
Under this canopy
Of clockwork darkness
Let the wounds heal over.
You can’t have anything
Except the fading.
The leaves are not yours.
Not their bodies,
Not their brittle spines,
Not the color yellow.
But the mere feeling
Of autumn can be held
For lifetimes.
In this, the voiceless
Gathering at the creek
We learn the wind’s identity.
Never ascending.
Never descending.
Just circling through the trees.
We must deal as best we can.