The sky fills with leaves,

Not rain.

Darkness sails on the wings of clouds,

Settles between the charcoaled outline of trees.

the leaves are falling

So many of them,

Their bodies floating

And drifting


It is though they hang in air

For many moments

Before they make their slow


-One tree shed its leaves a long time ago.

Its skeleton


Stretched out

Toward the sky.

The leaves that once hung on this tree

Have somehow turned into crows

-their sleek black silhouettes

No longer perched along

The brittle bones of the tree

But dispersed in the air

Between its branches,

earth and sky.

J. Hamilton


One thought on “Unleafed

  1. Pingback: Unleafed | Le cose piu belle (the most beautiful things)

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