These oak leaves reminded me of people--nearby, but separate. I also like that the large one has a folded arm. S's pies are cooling on the counter. Here comes Thanksgiving!
And here is the poem from the facing page of last night's poem "Loss" by A.R. Ammons.
Recovery
All afternoon
the tree shadows, accelerating,
lengthened
till
sunset
shot them back into infinity:
next morning
darkness
returned from the other
infinity and the
shadows caught ground
and through the morning, slowing,
hardened into noon.
A. R Ammons
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