William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

When Gravity Meets Memory

On the trail a few days ago,

I saw a very large cottonwood leaf,

a brittle survivor of winter.

It struck me as a kind of landmark,

something that would always be there,

even in its eventual absence,

and in mine, its brown face

held together by distinct veins,

waiting patiently for an ant to walk by.

I’ve thought of it each day since.

Next time, if there is a next time,

I might not notice it,

even, and perhaps especially,

if I look with each step.

It might be noticed by someone else.

I might be someone else,

because it feels like that leaf

has set me spinning and changing,

just like it once did, and still does, itself.

And there’s no rule that says I must land.

For when gravity meets memory it passes,

as love leaves light in my hand.


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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet

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4 replies

  1. Aye… I know that leaf.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. To the old and new, and to those moments of recognition. Beautiful lines. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person