The Leaf

by Neo Saicon, SJ


It clings to the twig, and swings
On a cold autumn week,
The last to leave.
When winter winds prick,
It waits…
And waits…
And waits and then —
Flicks!

Tossing and turning
Upon the cold winds calling,
Its journey of ending — beginning.
Gliding and sliding
And tumbling and rolling
Towards the frosty earth’s landing.
Relishing,
Its swinging and swaying,
As if everlasting.
Dancing and prancing,
And swerving and swirling
In a world awaiting,
Its coming.
Giving,
Into the sway of a rhythm.
Frolicking and playing
In the season that seems unending.

Finally.
It rests
The earth unmoving.
The grass uncaring.
The world forgetting.
It rests.

And the world returns to its humdrum beat.
And the world forgets the dance of the leaf.
And so the world forgets…
Just like it does with Christmas.