Why the Lifting?
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Because it’s there—
The chilled withering,
The drying out of leaves
And petals, the detachment
And the lifting into spiraling
Winds, the wishing it would
Never end, the laughing
At that wish, the seeing
Gold and yellow, and all shades
Of red torching across the hillside
And over the rooftops,
Because it’s there—the golden
Boats in the slowing creek—
Because it’s there—the apples
Blooming from where every blossom
Bloomed—the cinnamon and the clove,
The orange peel, and the nutmeg—
Because one must let the sweetness
Of the end warm the insides against
The cold outside—because the hearth
Must be kindly again, because it will
End, because winter unfurls, engulfs,
Encloses—because, of course, we know
Spring sleeps and will rise again—
In this moment—however and nevertheless—
It’s there—the detachment and lifting
Into the spiraling wind.
