Went shopping that day. In the square
flowers in bloom, but on the turn.
I noticed how there is a sort of grandeur

in the passing of flowers. Youth, the full flush,
cannot have it all. The trees were turning too –
a curl and twist to each leaf,

some falling, some fallen. Early, I thought,
too soon, too little time in the world.
I paused, put down my bags.

There is a bench near the post office.
I sit there in the summer, in autumn
and watch the birds, the children.

I sat there on that day and, leaning back,
looked up through the branches. Did I
see the ‘plane or only hear it?

Three breaths, nine heartbeats. Then the light.
And then the heat. And then the sound.
And only my shadow left behind.