The Galactic Spirals Of Dead Leaves....Ii Of Iv Poem by John Tansey

All the trees lay bare now;

Their limbs, haunched as old men,
huddled against the cold.

Watching flocks of geese, fleeing south,
receding through the seasons,

I see all things reverse direction.

The nebulous torpor of clouds,
swirling as galaxies, their spiral arms closing in

Around nothing,

Winter crouches in hibernation.

Wind, tide the moon and my mood, turning
through light years of reflection,
are like eddy’s of water in the southern sphere,

Circling, backward, through the crowds,
to where loneliness becomes spatial.

And as the vaccuum between strangers,

A child's spilled sack of marbles,
spreading across the floor,

Scatters us, like solitary constellations
into there spots of least potential...