Leaf Fall

Whatever winds encountered soon resolved
to swirling fragments, till chaotic heaps
of leaves lay pulsing by the backyard wall.
In lieu of rakes, our fingers sorted each
dry leaf into its place and built a high,
soft bastion against earth's gravitron—
a patchwork quilt, a trampoline, a bright
impediment to fling ourselves upon.

And nothing in our laughter as we fell
into those leaves was like the autumn's cry
of also falling. Nothing meant to die
could be so bright as we, so colorful—
clad in our plaids, oblivious to pain
we'd feel today, should we leaf-fall again.

Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Wolf Avatar
September 15, 2019 at 9:21 PM
Nice, a trampoline of leaves. Brings back fond, fond memories. Thanks, Michael. Best wishes, Gershon
Burch Avatar
September 15, 2019 at 9:35 PM
Yes, a trampoline of leaves, and happy memories of the past.
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