Before the sunwas all the way up
the front of the house pelted
by an onslaught of mad leaves
driven on a wild wind.
Two black birds, crows,locked in flight of love or war,
plummet like mad whirling blades
falling from the sky, fanning outward
the pale leaves on the asphalt below.
This hard wood floor,dark and lightly
dented, scattered with thin leaves:
teardrops and crescents and stemmed hearts
and the red serrated shape we associate with Canada.