My heart carried an endless Sunday
like a muffled murmur.
with each heartbeat time ripened into a song:
autumn curled up in every corner, stuffed hands into pockets,
chestnuts into newspaper cones. the deception of leaves kept winning.
chestnuts, still hot, rushed into hungry throats,
newspapers awaited a force stronger than wind, stronger than fire.
awaited the hand to pick them up, as if all the longing of the world