Last Leaf

Over a creek I cross on a winter’s walk
An oak tree stretches out its barren limb,
Except for a single blackened leaf
Still stubborn as yet unfallen.
But weighty raindrops split its stem,
And down it falls, as its last event,
To find it floats on the water below
For backwood places it’s never been.


2017 Edward J. Gordon. All rights reserved.

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