From a crumbling, death-stricken stick,
The leaf leaves,
And with many stumbling flutters
Is sky-born into new life.
Its deadly-red self flying out of place
With the dizzying green below,
Its veins bursting at the seams.
Leaf swings low,
Above sleepy blades of grass,
Who soar to sudden attention
And give Leaf the bounces it needs.
But green turns to grey,
And soft to concrete,
As rapid traffic and rambling masses
Suck, splutter and spit Leaf
Out of its tainted jaw.
A clamminess encircles Leaf,
Muted motion resumes
While grey fades to green.
Through babbly brooks and cranny nooks,
Every spec of nature’s gradual languidness
Cries farm from
Man’s shattering rattles.
Veins surging, now bursting freshness,
Leaf ascends and aways for the setting sun,
Whose rays sprout outstretched arms.
Its subtle colours hinting at exoticism beyond bounds,
All awaiting a fine, fresh, red leaf.
And Leaf fades into the ray’s embrace.