Scribbles & Bits

It is autumn in the Northeast, perhaps one of the most inspiring seasons for artists and poets alike. The following two poems both describe the descent of a leaf, but in strikingly different terms. The first examines the unique facets of the first leaf to fall, whereas the second poem looks at how each dying leaf ends up stikingly similar to others in its fate.

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Leader

The fire-enriched leaf sits on the green tree,
Leader of the bunch, he is the one that is proud.
He finally signals other leaves it’s their time to turn their colors.
Proud and strong like a purebred horse,
He fights hard for all of his nation, head high,
He is the first one out of all the leaves to say "Adieu."
He tumbles and turns as if in a nightmare,
But not a soul seems to help since they cannot hear
The millions of cries of dying leaves,
Falling forever more
Season after season
Again and again
He will come again
Our leader.

Julianne


The Same

The leaf lets go of the tree.
It has ripened into colors.
It spins,
It flutters in the air,
Floats for only a moment.
Its color is a variety of gold and ambers,
Splashed with spots of orange.
It shines like the morning sun,
Bright against the green grass.
It has a free spirit.
The leaf touches the ground.
Another leaf lies beside it.
It is brittle,
Withered.
It looks like the others.

Elizabeth