I travel back in time again.
The roads are soft, my heels dig in,

Traffic ebbs and flows with the wind,
and I am buffeted. The leaf

drifts down from the tree like any
one Robin or Grackle would do,

making its own shade to land in.
Eventually the bird will fly

the other way. The leaf nestles
into the blade of grass. One car

after another pauses, drivers
offering rides through half-opened

windows. As if I were going
nowhere worth going to. As if

the leaf could spread its wings and fly
up like a butterfly into

the sky. Part of me still wants to
walk down that back country highway,

but there’s the leaf, settling in.