Airborne

There’s nothing given
about a flurry of gold seeds
whirling from maples

on a hot windless
day in June. I lean down and
pick one up. Heavy

veined wings doubled for
the descent. How we children
spun ourselves around.

Meaning is excess-
ive to the thing itself, the
thing we love to death.

Author: Tom D'Evelyn

Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Cranston RI and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at tom.develyn@comcast.net. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.

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