interstate avenue octet

the ladybug, still awake in October,
scurries from one wet fallen leaf to the next—

in mist katsuras shed yellow foliage;
the red oak’s still-green leaves turn nearly silver—

walking the avenue I speak the trees’ names
as if speaking your own name to the wind’s gust—

clanging bell on the light rail barreling north;
canada geese move south through layered clouds


Jack Hayes
© 2016