A single leaf falls in visual music.

The same leaf falls into crystals of ice.

A black branch is the only silence present.


The other night as music over-shadowed

the meaning of what I was trying to say,

I realized that I have no power over form.


When you hear a leaf fall, you need not ask

about love, for if silence is darkness,

then music is light enough to utterly sustain.


This poem was inspired in part by a post entitled “How much is the love?” of two digital paintings on Tomas Karkalas’s blog Captain’s Bridge