by Jacqueline Sullivan Issue: Fall 2015
Red-light still on a Saturday.
Cars hover engine-quiet
in this just-barely
Autumn light.
Surrounded by a city
of expectations
everyone waits like commas
for what may come.

I glance at the old grey oaks
lining the Charles River,
sturdy as oars.
Wonder how long they'll outlast us.
I hope they go on forever,
Autumn never dying.
But for now, the sky has fallen
and everything is cinnamon.

The light changes
and a young couple  
who have been standing
on the corner waiting
clasp hands and run among
the blowing and crumpled leaves.
How easily they make it
to the other side.

Jacqueline Sullivan is a Phi Beta Kappa graduate of the College of the Holy Cross, cum laude, and is employed as an attorney.