Skeleton Leaves

November 30, 2005

Leaves pace the sidewalk.

Not may left now--they look nervous.

Rakes have abducted most of them,

big callous hands herding them into

slick black bags.

A few escapees will be flattened

by an early snowfall.

Waterlogged at first,

misshapen clumps of tree detritus

and fading color and brilliance.

They'll cling to each other

till the sun, earnest and angular,

crisps them back,

loosens their sticky grip and

curls their edges into razors

slicing apart the safety of numbers.

Brittle and separate again.

Swirls of wind agitate them,

sending them nowhere

except the edges of sidewalks.

Every so often, random survivors cling

to some one's shoe or blow up

against a furry jacket--one last hope

But some child needs to find

a delicate leaf skeleton

when spring returns,

and wonder.

Picasa photo by WallMeadows