Harmless Regrets (#42)

The Osage orange has been

Losing its mind,

Throwing brain-shaped fruits

At passing cars,

Painting the asphalt chartreuse.

It happens each autumn,

Days of harmless regrets—

Gardens unplanted, mornings missed,

Summer stored in sweater drawers.

Along the lane,

On a gate post,

A squirrel has hung a walnut

Hull, neatly as a cap on a peg.
Its uncrushable shell,
Broken in bits. The frozen
Light is too bright to be borne.