Under a lone street lamp
Dead leaves race around a cul-de-sac
With reckless abandon,
A January wind at their backs,
Reaching breakneck speed,
As they hit black ice,
Then, unable to negotiate the curve, fly off
One by one into the dark
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a fun and wonderful image! Loved it. -chuck