The yellow leaf is not an autumn leaf
Before falling to the camera frame.
When inside the frame it will not fall off
Like the painted leaf of O’Henry last.
The gold of it rises from pure sunrise
Of the balcony’s shadows yet to form,
Birds forming to wake sleeping house.
And when they do they are vague vain v’s
Painted in the gold of a dawn’s newsky.
Just juxtapose yellow leaf with paper,
The paper of a pink flower trembling
As in deep awe before a passing breeze.
You now have this pink plus yellow frame
In the slightly inebriated morning sky
Without its native hues of resolution.