Light Falls/Words Fall

Words like darting maple twists fall
past the red fox and his footfalls.
Past empty milkweed pods.
The viscous puffs of down fall.
A gibbous moon
lightens but dusk falls
Birds’ wings dart and fall,
empty promises in the last of fall.
Their shadows in quince branches
darken and fall
transparent angel wings
disappearing at nightfall. 


Jan Zlotnik Schmidt is a SUNY Distinguished Professor of English at SUNY New Paltz where she teaches composition, creative writing, American and Women’s Literature, creative nonfiction, memoir, and Holocaust literature courses. Her work has been published in many journals including The Cream City Review, Kansas Quarterly, The Alaska Quarterly Review, Home Planet News, Phoebe, Black Buzzard Review, The Chiron Review, and Wind. Her work also has been nominated for the Pushcart Press Prize Series. She has had two volumes of poetry published by the Edwin Mellen Press (We Speak in Tongues, 1991; She had this memory, 2000). Her chapbook, The Earth Was Still, was recently published by Finishing Line Press.