The First of the Leaf Multitudes
Sunday sonnet
Published in
Oct 6, 2024
These last few hours. Transformative delight.
Here come the crumbly leaves, as just a few
fresh fallen silver maple leaves shine bright
with red and yellow, orange pigment, too.
This first short flush of dry and crunchy leaves
leaves us a touch more sunny atmosphere.
A clearer view, a leaflorn tree achieves.
I hear the grackles cackle over there.
Their black and iridescent sheen appears.
Across the way, from red oak trees, they cried.
The branches still. Noise stops. Birds tell their fears.
Beneath green oak leaves hanging tight, they hide.
A red-tailed hawk flies off to leaf-shorn tree.
Fall leaves the hunted easier to see.
Thank you, The Daily Cuppa, for publishing these Sunday sonnets.
