Glory
After Gerard Manley Hopkins
Glory for the golden gingko leaves
that fan out on the sidewalk
in autumn, like open hearts
after their silent fall,
no breast-beating,
teaching us how to let go,
how to die with grace.
Glory to autumn, the burning glow
it gives the world, its pink / orange
sunsets, and
the sepia heads of dried
rhododendron, the ones that blow
along the macadam like tumbleweed.
Glory to autumn’s leaving, the winter
it brings when darkness comes early
and we cozen ourselves in fleece robes
and listen to the wind, what it reveals,
what it keeps to itself.
Rochelle Jewel Shapiro has published in the New York Times (Lives). Nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, her short stories and poetry have been published in The MacGuffin, Euphony, the Iowa Review, and many more. Her poetry collection, Death, Please Wait was published by Turtle Box Press in 2023. She teaches writing at UCLA Extension. http://rochellejshapiro.com @rjshapiro
Amethyst Review 