DEEP SHADOW- I walk the ridge to make the sunlight last the way the morning snow had melted; fast. October is the loneliest of months and dim, blurred and secret as a canyon rim. As usual the trees are hording snow, in shadow hiding what they cannot grow. The aspen branches laid out bare prove all their lives are buried there. My brothers, hunting, left me with the trees, they told me I could count the leaves. In that October, thirrty years ago, I knew even then what I could not know. I knew even then, October light, seen from deep shadow, would be my last sight.

The Day All the Leaves Fell- When you tell me you can't remember all I see is the long ago anguish In those same eyes that could never lie. That day, that day you said neither of us would remember In ten years or even ten weeks. But, now it's twenty years. And isn't it funny, of all the things that happened that day- Your voice growing sharper, your words crueler like the wind- My face, as it fell away in the darkening rain- Of all this, we both know It was the tree behind me And how it dropped all its' leaves all at once That you try, so hard, to forget.