I began this piece yesterday at work. Obviously, as much as I enjoy teaching, I was wishing to be elsewhere. Do you ever desire to be elsewhere? Where is your elsewhere?

Image result for last leaf


I envy the child
who lingers beneath
the stolid oak,
its limbs and fingers
as bare as bone
save for a last leaf,
dull and spotted,
an old man’s hand,
waving as November’s breath
batters its fragile skin…

the child who waits
for that leaf to fly,
who will sprint and spin,
raising arms
to assure
that ancient hand
finds his small palms
where it can rest,
treasured, as a parchment
etched with secrets.


4 thoughts on “Secrets

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