On the street I saw a yellow leaf that
a car had driven over, leaving a
tire print resembling a staff of music.
I looked around for someone to show it
to, but everyone was hurrying through
sheets of rain. I gave it my most solemn
attention for a moment. I could have taken
the leaf home and dried it between
the pages of a book, but I left it at rest
on the pavement. I saw this as a minor
act of love: I thought that someone else
might see it, commiserate
with its flattened, tired
condition, read the notes, and take
comfort — just as I did when I walked
off, humming its autumnal requiem.
You can read more of Jeannie Prinsen's poetry on her blog.