Distractions: A Book of Poetry

Poems that I've written


98. Leaf-fall

   It's a gentle death, a slow dissolving of energy, dissipating in a dramatic burst of color.
   The leaves flutter their tips in the chilly wind, and the fire creeps throught their veins.
   The flames devour healthy chlorophyll, changing healthy green to vibrant orange and crimson.
   As the wind drops in temperature and rises in cruelty, the leaves shudder and tremble, feeling the looming grasp of death, fearing the desecration.
   They crumble, leaving nothing but brown ashes scattered carelessly along the grass and pavement.
   The tree shivers in the cold, turning its face to the sun to wait for fresh, newly green leaves to bud; it waits for the warm rebirth of spring.

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