Flared dividers of shodden leaf
Humble fighter of rain and mud
The foxes snout prodding tree
Searcher of serenity
Constant fall of living flail
The distant playing in a pile
Futile entries in strength do pale
To quickened heartbeat in deepest wild
Far flung are autumn leaves
Scattered like dark ashes
Freed like amber prisoners
They form like wounded gashes
They leave the boughs— naked and bare
the opened flesh of maple— without thought or care
Their fall is a beacon,
a quick harkening
Of what approaches,
The cold’s awakening
The terror of cold invites them all
The fragile-ness of season’s pickings
Excuses none, includes us all
To hearken change without a cost
About the Creator
Ellie Seng
I'm a Masters student, who's training to be primary school teacher
Keep reading
More stories from Ellie Seng and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Whiskered War
A domestic drama; rather, you're witnessing a millennium-old conflict over the fate of the entire planet (and possibly just a smA titanic struggle between wits and strength has been raging in the shadows for millennia: The Great Nibble vs. The Purrsecution. The cats, the furry fighters, the fascists of the feline world, occupy one corner. In the other, mice make up the squeaky squad, the small militia. The reward? Domination over the entire world (and possibly an especially tasty cheese wheel).
By Richard Webera day ago in Humor
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.