Speaking Out For Leaf-Poetry (in case Mr. Winter is listening:)

I LOVE soaking in leaf-shaped 'suds'! 

They smell better than anything you can pour from a bottle 

and their crackle is  a mixture of holding on and letting go...

Oh, let it snow, but first let nature spill its farewell madrigal

We love Her so; some call her Autumn, others simply call her Fall

She sets the summer heart aflame with love and longing, torn between

Earth's frame-less works of art; mosaics gold and scarlet, orange, green

Oh, let it snow, but not before the fingers of the wind have teased

The ballads from the branch that bore a summer rife with melodies

The roar of gales can set to sail a splurge of lonesome, leaf-shaped notes

Where chords of something like a dirge weaves lullabies lodged in our throats 

Oh, let it snow but do not crush the farmer's harvest-hopes too soon

Ah, Time Enough for blasts to blow across some wintry afternoon

And let the poet drink the ink of Silence strumming stubble-sweeps

Where soon the fluff of stars will snuff the countryside where summer sleeps 

... and wait until the thrill of smoky grays and brooding blues begets

The time it takes to acclimate to twilight's leafless silhouettes

Where five o'clock sidewalks are strung with yellow streetlight-jewelry

Oh, let it snow but not before 

Fall spills its finest, 

fullest,

 final,

fluttering

frond

of

 poetry

Janet Martin