Like bronze organza scraps
Upon a seamstresses floor;
Discarded pieces
Swept into a disused corner;
Creativity's after-thought
-They have no purpose now.
Old leaves,
Barely visible,
Trapped along the fence line
Scuttled along by the wind,
The drift of melting snow,
And time.
In another life,
they gleamed.
Strong fresh vibrant;
Leathery and green.
A fibre now dulled;
Their chlorophyll hues, drained.
Threadbare and fragile,
They lay in clusters;
Mere ghosts of their former selves.
The emerald life blood has retreated
Evaporated...been absorbed;
While new life sprouts above.
© Strauss
27th March 2007
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3 comments:
This is great. I grew up in the Northwest, and all the old leaves turned into a soggy much by the end of winter.
They looked so pretty when they first fell. Decomposition is nature's way or renurturing the earth and making way for new growth.
Old leaves,
Barely visible,
Trapped along the fence line
Scuttled along by the wind,
The drift of melting snow,
And time.
I really like this!
"Scuttled along by the wind" That did it for me. What a wondeful piece of art. Leaves falling are my favorite part of year. The dull colors seem to know my heart.
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