The Gingko’s Tale

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Leaves like little fans
Or green butterflies settling on stems
As sunlight on bright wings
Yesterdays that flutter past
My window.

Startled Heraclitus in streams of change
Sees Parmenides grasp a stolen current
Where languishing wings can’t decay green summer
Held fast in the eddy of my gaze
Caught in rivulets of pain
Till You, my Lord, come again.