Of Fallen Leaves

I should be cleaning, I said to Victoria.

‘Nah, cleaning’s over-rated’ was her quick reply…

(maybe, but that's only if your house is already quite clean!)

However, the poem-wind blows keenest through Autumn Leaves

I should be working

But the woods

Are filled with jazzy overtures

And on the air

An aura broods

Of lullaby where leaf-note blurs

Into an under-

Tow of tunes

Anointing dust of days gone by

Where silence thunders

With a boon

Of echoes holding up the sky

…where soon a killer

Frost will strip

The softness from the touch of Her

And soon the Miller’s

Smile will tip

The b-b-bin that b-b-b-brings the b-b-blue-lipped B-r-r-r!

And all the Should

Cannot return

An afternoon of autumn sheaves

Where you and I

(Much Younger then)

Wander a world of fallen leaves

© Janet Martin