“What might have been still waited for its chance.”
– Mark Strand

In the northeast it takes
the first pounding rain and
siren winds to bring down
garnet lemon leaves

Powerful gusts of trouble
that come late into life,
testing resources and talents

The indefinite outline
of what’s coming
spreads its fog
every time we raise our heads
from what we are doing

What might have been
lies buried beneath leaf piles;
under our thick soled shoes
dry chords splinter
into overtures of change