Leaves
It sounded like rain
but it was thousands of little leaves
falling at once from the trees,
covering the ground like snow.
In the midst of this was a lone tree.
All of its leaves were still like statues, except one
(one that was so strange among the others).
It swung back-and-forth, back-and-forth
like the pendulum of an old grandfather clock--
back-and-forth, back-and-forth--
keeping a regular rhythm.
The others, perhaps, were keeping guard,
stiff and erect, red and black--
like the Guards at Buckingham Palace.
And then suddenly along the walkway skipped its brother.
It sounded just like the steps of the neighbor boy
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but it was this big, orange-and-yellow,
dry-and-crisp maple leaf.
It was as if it were trying to keep up with his sibling rival--
pitter-pat, pitter-pat
but all the while was creating a beat of its own.
I was spell-bound.
I was a child again
and then something that hadn't happened in years:
I was skipping in unison with Mr. Maple
and rocking to the beat of the pendulum.
How nice it was to be a child once more.
As I ran into the house, the wild breezes followed me
and the ornaments on the tree began rocking
back-and-forth, back-and-forth,
except one which hung in stationary elegance
to welcome in a new Christmas Day!
Rosemary Jenkins
