Witness to the Fall

18 Oct

brown leafSometimes, there are no words, only

leaves, orange leaves, yellow streaked,

a thread of green snaking through the middle,

something fresh, not yet ready to fall,

clinging to the branch

for as long as the wind and the storm and the rain will allow.

Sometimes, there are only leaves

falling,

red leaves soaked in rain, burgundy

swirling at eye level,

unwilling to land.

Sometimes there are brown leaves crunching underfoot.

Sometimes, there are no words,

no poem but this floating.

This floating.

This one

leaf

loose,

floating

down

to rest

among the boards.

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One Response to “Witness to the Fall”

  1. joy October 18, 2013 at 9:58 am #

    Yes

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