Gingko
resting in the shade
underneath your branches
on a red gingham blanket
crumpled over uncut grass
the woven basket
filled with sunscreen and nail polish
painting her tiny fingers
the hum of bees making figure eights
the air is crisper
he runs against the wind
into your falling leaves
mouth open
squealing as each one hits him in the face
a moving target to catch the arrows
he hates me videotaping it
i put the impediment down
taking in the movie through my internal lens
feeling the leaves hit my face too
each year in november
i arrive at the house in anticipation
hoping my visit is timed
with the moment when you undress
when i miss it
i feel as though i have betrayed you
and broken our vow
feeling regretful of the summer days
when i walk past you to the barn
not pausing to admire your majesty
and momentarily taking you for granted
i find your impeccable ring of fallen amber leaves
the mirror image of the sun
drenching the earth
picturing your protective skin shedding into the air
piece by piece
leaving your bones raw
soon your skeleton will shiver in the winter chill
like a dark punishment
a familiar cycle
purposefully providing another chance
to examine what is left
knowing that spring is around the corner
when the contemplation is complete
the work is done
and you become new again
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Gingko, 2025
Gingko leaves, saggar fired porcelain, copper wire, plaster, oil on wood 48 x 36 in (121.9 x 91.4 cm)