Again the wind
flakes gold-leaf from the trees
and the painting darkens—
as if a thousand penitents
kissed an icon
till it thinned
back to bare wood,
without diminishment.

Jane Hirshfield, "Autumn." The Paris Review, Issue no. 109 (Winter 1988).


Related: "It's autumn and Frank O'Hara is standing there, yelling at leaves."


Horace Pippin, The Park Bench/Man on a Bench. 1943. The Philadelphia Museum of Art. (Wish I could see this exhibit on view there of six Pippin paintings.)