Trees are words
and light writes distances. - Adonis

A backward look comes to mind now:
On Anna Salai, in the muggy heat of Madras,

Like Basho, waving farewell to a friend long
after the beloved body disappeared into dusk.

This is what I have been doing every autumn
For a decade as leaves cleave the cooling air.

There are distances of time woven into the creases
Of my face. After years you ask me how I am:

Scan the trees' calligraphy when the winter comes
to know how separation (or flight?) is written in light