The Fall – a poem by Mike Neighbors

The Fall

Under the vanishing shade of the trees,
I look up and gaze at the tumbling leaves;
I prick up my ears to the rustling sound
and catch them before they collide with the ground.

Then I open my fingers to see what’s inside:
still leathery smooth, but now crumbled and dry.
Streaked with some green like the day they were born –
but brown as the soil to which they’ll return.

What do I do with these bits in my hand?
Blow them up towards the sky, or bury them in the land?
Do I pray on my knees for their final salvation –
or dance on my feet for their reincarnation?

Mike Neighbors is a legal news editor from Los Angeles, California. He lives in Marina Del Rey with his wife and three cats.