Glass Beads

So the concentrated leaf falls of early November plugged the drains, and the heavy rain filled them. Then came a night of north wind rattling windows, and we woke to find sheets of ice anchored at every street corner: new bodies of land, slick ephemeral continents. They will break under the weight of daytime traffic, like dreams that crack and crumble under the pressure of waking thoughts.

I picked up an oak leaf beaded with frozen raindrops, but didn't bring it inside. Too sad, to watch the glass beads melt.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside