Litany

You are the last leaf of Fall to drop,
and the child that picks it up.
You are the yellow glow of streetlamps,
washing the tunnels of roads.

You are both the first and last drops of rain,
but never ever the lightning.
You are opposite of the Siren,
beautiful but rarely heard.

I am all the paths you ignore in a maze,
the obvious circles and dead-ends.
I am a Japanese cookbook,
stuck in a stack of German philosophy.

I am an anonymous donation to St. Jude’s,
but not the cure for cancer.
I am a hidden nuclear silo,
but decrepit and of no use.

You are all the miracles of God,
extending a hand towards me.
You are my start and my end,
the last line of all poetry.