Fall - In Port Townsend Poem by Eric Rhodes

I follow the leaf with my eyes
as it haphazardly floats
its' final journey.
It was the last leaf for the willow
which now stands naked,
as bone bare as the trees around it.
The whole town seems
to echo my thoughts
before they reach my lips.
I shuffle my feet intentionally
across every dried crackling leaf,
not even hesitating
as I walk across the intersection.
There are no cars traveling
these streets anymore,
the tourists all gone,
now that the cold sea and sky
have same damp expression.
There is a lightness
this time of year though,
in the facades of old brick buildings
lining the street.
They are sensitive in their old age
to the noise of summer,
more so than in their youth.
My finger traces the crumbling mortar
along Taylor street as I walk
and enjoy the echos
of the last leaves falling.

(1992)