Though the sky is perfectly blue and sunny
the leaves keep turning; nothing can stop their
quest for gold. And we know where that leads—
to the blackened bones of knowledge. Nor are
we exempt from the questioning: The year
gathers toward its climax. Have we done
enough for earth? Are we worthy to share
breath with the turtle, woodchuck and heron?

In the weakening sun it all begins
to look like unspent money. What good did
it do us, all that late-night accounting?
It’s clear we can’t hold on to the green.
Can’t hold on, can’t let go—yet only when
the trees are bare does the house fill with light.

Thomas R. Smith's most recent collection Storm Island was published by Red Dragonfly Press in 2020. He teaches at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis and posts poems and essays at www.thomasrsmithpoet.com. He lives in River Falls with his wife Krista Spieler and cats Violet and Lou.