If a leaf fell in the forest
would you hear the sound of it?
Would it’s still small voice
turn your ear to its descending color?
Before the fall, they hung in piles
upon the air, green and greener veins
sipping life out of the twig tips.
They clapped their hands upon the wind.
Now burnished and fainting, they blush
and leap on breezes that speak
of new seasons, changes that come
when they lay themselves down.
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Excellent. Gives me new insights about this season…of my life.
Rotations, cyclical patterns give some semblance of order and hope, yet mystery. I love fall.
I really like this one!
I like you Johnboy.
Even as a seasons of life change the images of hope manifest themselves. The applause brought me to Isaiah.
Yes. Isaiah. Images all around, especially my personal favorite…fall.
There is an anticipation in the air this time of the year. I can feel the leaves waiting to be converted. The leaves are waiting to “leap on breezes.” They have been tethered and now they are free.
Time for you to try on some poetry if you haven’t already.
Thanks, but I don’t think I have the skill. Writing is easy. Poetry, well, it is a mystery to me.
Gerald the Writer 
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