Translated from Finnish by Niina Pollari.

We’re living the end of September,
the summer packed its bags
and left through the same
window forgotten open
that you used a bit earlier.
I wish you had warned me

like a tree
signaled for a long time.
“No autumns, thanks.”
Despite the sticker on the letterbox
dead leaves rain
into the foyer.

You hated them
because they told the past.
I close the window, futilely
attempt to retrace your steps.
Black birds on the power lines
seem like they know a secret.