Children thought the birds were falling off the buildings,
and they thought the birds were on fire.
          ―from an article in the Washington Post, September 12, 2001

The first few leaves are falling now,
our smiles and laughter echoing
in memories, or how
we were caught on disc or in a photo.

The unanswerable never stops—
there, at the edge of the idlest thought:
to jump from molten towers before both dropped
as though just sprung from dust. While

looking up, children had begun to weep,
thinking we were birds on fire miles
above. Now grown, some bolt from one sleep:
upon a ledge, narrow as a tightrope,

flames at their backs.
                                        Nowhere but down.

– Mark Mansfield