Many leaves
drop
straight
down,
pile up
brown,
obscured,
unobserved,
crumbled
underfoot.
Some leaves
ride updrafts,
veined kites
caught
in brief flight,
then dashed
wedged,
torn,
alone.
A few lives
soar
above,
flicker light,
flash color,
hover
alight.
first published in Pegasus Review
also published in Northern Stars Magazine
also published in Poetry of the Spirit Anthology
also published in Illinois State Poetry Society
also published in FLOOR OF THE SKY Chapbook
also published in The Weekly Avocet
©2001 Bonnie Manion