A nuthatch honks and
hides in the pines as we pass,
the gingko, pleading.

Sun dogs overhead
while the gingko holds its leaves
as a third false sun.

I let my arms down,
the gingko turned the ground gold
almost overnight.

Luxurious arms—
soft leaves open to the sky,
deer sleep underneath.

Smooth and bright yellow—
leaves like hands, like flags, like bells,
October gingko.

Branches directing,
gingko like a weathervane,
no koi in your pond.