this day cannot decide whether it is blue or gray or white clouds or rain clouds and they all roll overhead together switching places with sunshine and shadow. leaves are falling and the empty in between spots are lace against the sky, now white, now gray, and the shadows so faint they disappear into color, flat yellow catawba leaves against flat pale-green ginkgo against shadowless houses. suddenly the sun and there are reflections in the windows, the leaves drawing checkered quilt patterns across the glass, then gone again with the softest of breezes. shimmering ginkgo leaves spin themselves into gold.
across the street still hang icicle christmas lights from last year, white blossoms of a leftover season, another piece of lace against the graying of the day.
sunday. late october.