Ode to a Leaf

Just two weeks in
and the dancing leaves
are falling,
their color torn from the trees
in an early death,
fueled by storms and harsh winds,

but a few, like this single yellow leaf,
refuse to succumb,
hang on,
wounded bright survivors,
like yourself,
their color more precious
for their absolute refusal

to surrender.

About this poem. 

The woman I love and I went out yesterday and took pictures of the fall finery here in Vermont. We’re just a few days away from the peak, I think and there has actually been very little rain or storms so the trees are thick with leaves.

But there was this one tree along the country road we were traveling, with only one or two leaves left. For some reason I was drawn to these few stragglers and could not help but spend time capturing those last survivors, the leaves that refused to fall. I identify with them somehow.

Tom