A leaf glides on the water,
and ripples disperse around it;
Crossing over one another as the tree's
lachrymose with the lake, dirty halos
crowning these dead pieces of Autumn.
Passing under the bellies of mallards and Canadian geese,
unmoved and uncaring of the water's caress,
they stretched out like wings to whisper against
the nests of reeds and wrappers stood on the banks.
I wonder where my ripples would reach
tonight, if I was to die and leave.
The world would turn no slower
and the sun would shine no darker.
I'll pass under the bellies of ducks
an unheard voice, a disregarded ripple