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gold leaves in the rain

gold leaves in the rain
falling bright
wipers clear them
from the windshield,
toss them aside
dirt road
where I can stop
right in the middle
(middle of this road
middle early in the day
middle later in my life)
I can stop
and scribble down words
on this back road
before all our words
are carried away or rinsed away
by the rest of the day
(just as the rain
just as the gold leaves)
Look, here—
when I stop moving
leaves settle on the hood,
on the windshield
we all pause for a breath,
rest and wait to see
what words come
next

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