
the last few leaves
tenaciously hang on
into mid-winter.

the last few leaves
tenaciously hang on
into mid-winter.

the treetop leaves
that catch early & late sun
are the first to fall.
The forest looks painted with dabs of bright color, a pointillist mural of the leaves' last hurrah. Soon, it'll turn twiggy, and sing desolation, and invite the fog in to soften sharp lines. Then one day you'll notice leaves glowing in sunlight. Their green will be golden from warm yellow rays. The maturing forest will darken its greenness, turning to sober tones that blot out the light.

The fallen leaves
of a sheltered tree
form a shadow
made of yellow,
a pointillist shadow
painted yellow,
‘til the wind blows
angled and low
to send that shadow
on its way -
or ‘til the leaves
turn brown and crisp…
whichever comes first.

the evergreen’s
time to shine: when the last
leaf has fallen

leaves are falling
throughout the city, &
someone sweeps them up