Drab Purples

There are
the metal wound strings
crossing the wood
that used to be living
housing squirrels
or perhaps the wood
lived without squirrels
but not without leaves
falling
dropping
every autumn
after rains come
before the snow
autumn
when we died
when leaves die
and snow shows itself for the first time
like that first time
when I showed you
with eyes newly opened
like babies’ eyes
a new world
or did you show me
a world
not so black and white
full of tones of gray
and cherry
or was it rose
shielding all wrong
from me
I couldn’t see you then
as you are
living
as the wood was living
used to live
with leaves
hanging
not falling
as snow from the sky