Outside, I heard the leaves growing all night.
They sprouted, spread, unfolded and unfurled.
I heard the sounds so distant and so small,
naïve and succulent, greeting the world
more faintly than emerging lives themselves,
deflecting the night’s darkness, nudging night
away, their spirits, wavering as mine,
as darkness yielded to the yawning light.
The greening leaves emerged as dawn arrived,
and flushing springtime trees had come alive.
Outside, I heard the leaves falling all night.
They lilted, blew away. They shrunk and curled.
I heard the sounds so distant and so small,
depleted, parched, abandoning the world
more faint than the remaining lives themselves,
deflected by night’s darkness, nudged by night
away, their spirits, wavering as mine,
as dusk then yielded to the black of night.
The browning leaves senesced as dusk arrived,
and winter hid the trees of autumn’s lives.
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