Monday, December 28, 2015


Fallen leaves formed their mottled picture,
worn away underfoot, dissolved by bacterial imperatives.

Purpose completed they were shed, cast away for some short fall.
Some still lay, crisp edged, against their very roots,
propped by accident against their old entanglements.

They too will fade, it is a dead dream they cannot remember,
turning light into sugar. They too  will dissolve into smaller constituents.

New green things will come ere spring,
forgotten orange leaves, broken down,
reborn as grass or some slime-mold mass.

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'til the hungry yellow star goes red,
trees believe there will be more leaves to shed.

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