Carole Weinstein Poetry Prize
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Was it the tree or the wind
    that said something,
        a clatter of leaves and water
            as the gate shut,
a rush of explanations?
    The walk listened flatly,
        hardening its heart;
            at the front door
deadlock stiffed the key,
    no shower of words,
        and the tree, leaves
            flung dry, stared off
toward the airport.

By Eleanor Ross Taylor
Recipient of the 2009 Carole Weinstein Poetry Prize

Reprinted by permission of Louisiana State University Press
from Late Leisure by Eleanor Ross Taylor.
Copyright © 1999 by Eleanor Ross Taylor.

© 2006 Carole Weinstein. All rights reserved.