A Leaf Refuses To Fall
The leaves don’t let go
that easily either. It takes a bluster,
a filabuster of north wind,
and the wasp-sting of the first
chill of late September
to tear them off the page
Persuasion doesn’t do it.
Sometimes in the middle of winter,
(the DEAD of winter, as they say)
you might see one shriveled
oakleaf, dangling from a frozen
filament of stem,
Nothing likes to end;
the October wind invites
the leaf to tango in the frosty air.
A shy curtsey, a twirling turn,
a pirouette, then the dance
is over and only the bare
fingers of the tree remain.