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