Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The Maple leaf

I know a maple
now beyond its prime

it sits on the edge of a river
with too much root showing.
and just off the bank is a deep pool
where fish gather to rest

I lean to this tree
while my pole lies lazy
and careless

usually, I watch the current
or the train rattling
the trestle, while my line drifts and
bounces the bottom harmlessly

but one day,
I fell back in the grass
and looked to the sky

and there,
so near the top
of this once mighty tree,
was a small leaf, alone
on a branch whose time
had come and gone

this red and green leaf
waved and danced
to a warm summer breeze
and I knew,
it would be the last

I haven't been there
in a while now, and
I wonder of it

someone left an old
wooden box, Coke
I think,
just below the tree

and silly as it sounds,
as I drive I worry
when finally it breaks free
of a branch that will never
hold another,
will it float free and drift
on the swirling current
where yet it might dance?
or will it fall in the box,
where dancing is just a memory?