summer afternoon in mid-October
contradicts my mind's ledger
cracked yellowed leaves in warm wind
pile up on sunny pavement--
my window is open, my itinerary changed
due to this pleasant lack of order
I trade my long coat for sheer delight
and run outside to find you
but the street is empty
your unsuspecting door closed.
Why is it that sometimes feelings arrive
like a summer wind in autumn
too late to save the leaf's departure
but enough to make the heart die for June?
Plath, born in Brooklyn in 1970, is a poet who currently teaches
English at Suffolk Community College and Hofstra University.
He believes "the poet leans on the headstone, while the
rest of the world is in love beneath star tipped trees."