After a sleepless rain-drenched night,
I walk this gray September dawn:
The gusts of wind shake the last drops
From the showered leaves on to me;
And from the wayside Shiuli tree
One white bud has fallen on me
Like the very breath of autumn.
It is a small thing, still breathing
Her sweet fragrance into my hands,
Just a white bloom, an orange stalk:
A tiny inch of perfection,
The first of September’s flowers
Telling me that the season of fall,
This new autumn is upon me.
I remember how much you loved it.
So I carry it in my hands
To keep by my empty bedside:
When you awake, wherever you are,
Perhaps you may find the familiar smell
And wonder from which distant tree
The wind has carried it home to you.