Carolyn Locke: "What Else"

The way the trees empty themselves of leaves,
let drop their ponderous fruit,
the way the turtle abandons the sun-warmed log,
the way even the late-blooming aster
succumbs to the power of frost—

this is not a new story.
Still, on this morning, the hollowness
of the season startles, filling
the rooms of your house, filling the world
with impossible light, improbable hope.

And so, what else can you do
but let yourself be broken
and emptied? What else is there
but waiting in the autumn sun?

"What Else" by Carolyn Locke, from The Place We Become (forthcoming from Maine Authors Publishing, Spring, 2015). Presented here by poet submission.

Art credit: Photograph from Foto Wikimedia Commons.