A Simple Leaf

A sculpture so beautifully designed,
Becomes a pleasure to the mind,
In colours of yellow, red and brown,
Wearing a true autumnal gown.
It had fluttered down, fully complete,
And landed gently, at my feet,
I picked it up, and then did view,
A passenger, a spider who,
Had settled there, a place to choose,
And awakening from his lengthy snooze,
Quickly skuttled off, making his escape,
Leaving me with just, the perfect shape
Of a simple leaf, with its own story,
Resting in my hand, in all its glory.

© Ernestine Northover

by Ernestine Northover

Comments (3)

I love this poem for challenging us to think about how much of where we are from makes us who we are; and how much of us is just humanity? Lovely write! ~
Wow, Wow, Wow! ! ! This is marvelous - this truly deserves to be recognized as poem of the day. Though as Susan said below this is more like a great work of literature. I love the way the speaker seems to be at ease with the flow of life as he points out his observations about nationality and existence itself. He talks in circles yet it all makes sense in a puzzling way. The same way life itself can feel like a puzzle with a few missing pieces.
Did you ever just want to howl with delight at a piece of LITERATURE that has just taken over your senses, your emotions, your mental faculties? I want to sit here and reread it and reread it and reread it and SAVOR its every word, its every phrase, its every pause!