Time to turnround.

LEAVES By C K Williams A pair of red leaves spinning on one another in such wildly erratic patterns over a frozen field it's hard to tell one from another and whether if they were creatures they'd be in combat or courting or just exalting in the tremendousness of their being. Humans can be like that, capricious, aswirl, not often enough in exalting, but courting, yes, and combat; so often in combat, in rancor, in rage, we rarely even remember what error or lie set off this phase of our seeming to have to slaughter. Not leaves then, which after all in their season give themselves to the hammer of winter, become sludge, become muck, become mulch, while we, still seething, broiling, stay as we are, vexation and violence, ax, atom, despair The picture above is of a little boy protesting the killing of his father in a terrorist attack in Bagdad. periodos :-)