The ginkgo

Molly Almon

Ginkgo leaves fall together

In a bought of yellow confetti 

And leave a bare trunk.

But this year, they did not.

This year, 

The ginkgo released green leaves

With yellow like it didn’t know better

Know that there was still life yet

Still life in the cells seeking sun—

The best part of its body.

The loss would 

Hurt the whole winter.

Hurt the survivor 

The widow. The left.

My ghost limb has never healed. 

Has left me unbalanced 

Without a load to carry 

How freeing it is to lose 

A part of yourself too early. 

Apart is the hardest thing

Besides being close

Seeing the carpet of 

Colors under my outstretched arms

The colors, some swept away

By wind now 

That a chill has crept in

It wasn’t there before.

There were days left running

Sand chasing sand down, waiting to let you go.

Then the Night’s decision that crystalized  

My bedroom window—

The window of time that I have

To see you is fleeting 

As green and gold. 

But there is still beauty

In the stillness littering the stone.