The Moya View

Leaves Falling for the Fawn to Graze

Leaves were falling 
from the great oak
at the meadows edge,
falling from all the trees
this cold cold night.

So many have fallen off,
so many were torn off,
that the new buds to come
were but a memory
of a sun that once shone
and gave them warmth,
warmth they needed again.

They’ve fallen down
unaware of the secret
blooms yet to come,
bringing more and more
green leaves beyond
their power to know.

They sank down
and fell silent
on the winter grass,
each nestled in
each other’s curves,
silent in last embrace,
sad to know their final light,
sad to know not again
the trees hidden greening.

They crumbled in the wind
and did not hear the oak
whisper how beautiful
it was, wonderful when
once the sun came out
and shone so warmly
that they all burst with life.

They felt not the kiss
of morning dew,
knowing only the
once mild and splendid
nights before they
grew yellow and ugly.

The wind blew the leaves
away as the oak uttered
its final blessing:

“You’ve been so kind.
You’ve always been
so kind to me.
I’m just beginning
to understand how
kind you’ve been.”





Leave a Reply

Dead Old Hearts for Auld Lange Syne
Build-a House
%d bloggers like this: