(04 October 1943 / Germany)

A Pile Of Leaves

A thousand leaves had fallen
the day he chose to go,
so many thoughtful colours
perched on a drift of snow.
The preacher and his flock
were out to hike for God
collecting pious thoughts
to add to ancient stock.
They sang of truth and love
of brothers in the fold
and from the sky above
unbidden now and cold
came flakes of crystal ice,
invisible their path
a nuisance had been sent
perhaps it was God's wrath
they sang, God, we repent.
And in the tallest tree
a spider's child observes
just how a spider weaves
a net of lines and curves.
Gone was the pile of leaves.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 2 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

I'd have to say that this reminds me of my own work, and as much so, how much I love yours. Just simply: damn good. - Love, CS
I like the images you have woven within this poem, Herbert. I think this is one of your more 'accessible' pieces. L
I like the way this reads...