Of Leaves

Leaves mirror the years.


I want to hear a leaf hit the dark lake water.

I get under a maple, and wait.

Leaves spiral around and behind.

Then, one falls, a golden brown, and lands next to me –

A sound so faint, so very faint.

No ripples.

The leaf sits.

And for the first time in a vanishing life I have heard a leaf hit water, so faint, so very faint.


She wants leaves: reds, yellows, browns, tans.

She rustles over a leaf bed, bends and takes many – soggy and brittle they are.

She sees a red leaf on a maple branch.

She pulls it off.

“No! No!” to myself.

She takes more red leaves.

I know she should wait until they fall –

Ill fortune, impatience, others wish to see them.


We move on, deeper into our private autumn engagement ….

Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, early October 2012

Author: Gene Novogrodsky

Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, a Brownsville resident for nearly three decades, writes North American border slices, from eastern Canada to central Mexico, and in between. He is one of the founders of the Narciso Martinez Cultural Arts Center Writers Forum in San Benito. He sometimes participates with the informal Resaca Writers Group in Brownsville. He prefers, however, to read to two or three attentive listeners – when asked!


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