Poem

Leaves

Everything leaves
Sooner or later -
Last bus home or
Ocean freighter.
The leaves of history books say
What’s here now will slip away,
Will leave,
Be gone.

Little Phoebe
Picked up a leaf
In the autumn woods,
Observed its pigmentation -
Hints of August green
And seldom seen
Russet, copper and
Burnished tangerine.

She brought it to me
With deliberation,
Like a precious gift,
Like a baby bird,
Held in her palm
Like the memory
Of a summer
Lost,
Like the very march of time -
Auguring leaves that shall quiver
Far beyond this rhyme.

from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/SvplsKT