Octal Syllabic Verse
A tiny mottled maple leaf
appeared outside my window pane.
Its superficial veiny face
Clung wet glass precariously.
Its nemesis, the wind, blew strong
But yet the tiny thing held on.
Its struggle onset reverie
I saw self-similarities:
bygone years of bold contentions
underdog I need to mention;
but like this leaf I gave my all
I cared not where the chips might fall.
As this enlightenment gave way
The wind had whisked the leaf away.