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Not far from my house is a private high school. One or two years ago, a student threw himself out of a fourth story window after failing a test and died.

Earlier this week, while walking past the place where he landed, I suddenly remembered the accident, and as I did so, I realized that there were some children playing nearby and laughing, completely unaware of what had happened a year or two before. 

This seemed representative of so many things in life, and it compelled me to write the first poem in this week’s collection. 
 
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<center>**(1)**</center>
 
<center>at the place
where you threw your body down
children are laughing</center>
 
<center>**(2)**</center>
 
<center>the kettle on the stove
its water boiling over
no longer whistles</center>
 
<center>**(3)**</center>
 
<center>by an old brick wall
a man with his head down
suitcase in hand</center>
 
<center>**(4)**</center>
 
<center>on the highway
smoky saxophone sounds
hazy twilight</center>
 
<center>**(5)**</center>
 
<center>alone
beneath the midnight sky
grass rustles beside me</center>
 
<center>**(6)**</center>
 
<center>naked and happy
with nothing left
looking at the moon</center>
 
<center>**(7)**</center>
 
<center>the ginkgo leaves
more yellow than the sun
warm my heart</center>
 
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<center>**As always, thank you for reading.**</center>
<center>*All feedback, thoughts, suggestions, criticisms, etc. are welcome.*</center>