Re-freashed leaves

Here is a draft of a fall poem that I have been working on for a while now. I didn't get to any new work this week but I edited this marginally so:

Leaf Shadows

The trees’ leaves,
freshly-dropped
one-summer loves,
had stuck themselves
onto the pavement of
Ruskin Row, my favorite
street in our walk,
for the quiet arching curve
in our conversations,
when we know
your street is nearing.

Swept away the leaves revealed
surprising shades of bright grey,
outlined epitaphs of their former forms
now afternoon sketches, thin
skeletal lines stenciled onto
the road. You asked if I was paying
attention as I watched them pass
under like water, neck craned.

We were walking
home together on the first of October
--ours is a convenience
of place sort of love--just passing
the bridge, watching
the two riverbanks bathing
in late afternoon sun, tipping
just on the slim edge
of the light
like proffered arms glowing
golden, a final fall

flourish. It was difficult to think
beyond the good weather,
towards a time for untangling

from this love
for this city--you’d say all cities
are images of souls, all loves
a convening nearer nearness--

from my fall
love for the tree’s last grasp
on its purple-basil coloured leaves,
segregating the cold cloud
sharpened sky,

for these concrete leaf shadows, that
tomorrow will erase so easily.