Poetry

Forgotten

Parents perch

behind the window

and marvel

at their boy's ingenuity

as he rakes the scattered

leaves into a neat pile.

They wait expectantly

for the obligatory plunge,

but the boy sits

and pulls out a pen.

He carefully plucks

a leaf from the mound,

and scribbles,

and sets it aside, and so it is

with another, and another.

The parents, perplexed,

intervene,

and are alarmed to see

all the leaves, labeled "Leaf."

As to why, the boys says,

"I am making them matter

so they can't fade away."

"Well, says Dad,

 you can't label everything.”

Cartwheel

A burnt fall leaf

is not a retired relic

waiting to take

its final breath.

Rather, when it is released

from its maternal body,

it animates with new life.

In that brief moment it

twirls, and

leaps, and

flips,

and impresses

the space around it

before finally lying still.

I want to learn

how to cartwheel

while falling.

xo,

LA