A Song 183

A jamun
outside a chapel,
sturdy,
dropping leaves in
November,
counting them.
A prayer to God,
lands up with the jamun;
abhangs
to jamun,
wind up with God.
A dried, brown leaf
negotiates a patient, descent.
Booted, laughing children
crunch crowds of leaves;
a nun pockets a leaf,
crossing self;
a sweeper does the rest.