Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 10, 2016

Falling Leaf~by Norman Wilson



Falling Leaf

One leaf, yes only one leaf I can see
Falling feathery in swirl from the old oak tree
Green yet crisp descending down
In slow motion, until it touches the ground

It lay listlessly in obscurity under a ripe sun
Drying out in a browning drowning among
Where weeds feed and soot gathers
While my thoughts of the leaf no longer seem to matter

There is shade now under the old oak tree
For the evasive nature of shelter I seek
As I fen for nothing in the shadows of shade
Where I am all alone with only my own voice that speaks

Just to hear one voice cry out in my day
A voice climbing the branches that surround me
May it be as feathery and sweet as the sheen on the leaf
That fell from heaven, I believe, just for me to see

The day is ending for my shade is gone
As the sun has over-ripened and has thrown down strong
A strength that eases it light through the leaves
As I feed upon the vestige of a laden breeze

I pick myself up as I wandered away
Away from the old oak tree and the leaf that fell that day
As I listen to the echo of my own voice still in the branches
Saying, come back tomorrow, what are the chances

All rights reserved 03/05/16
Norman Francis


  1. Great Poem

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