Poem: Falling Oak Leaf

By Dave Hood

Under pale sunlight, on a cold day,
wearing a down-filled parka, woolen cap,
I take a leisure stroll
on a carpet of decaying leaves,
in the woods. Inhale the crisp air, feel a chill,
contemplate approaching winter—snow,
and ice, and solitude.

I take snapshots of autumn’s fading glory,
Red maples, yellow birch leaves. Notice
an oak leaf falling into the frigid river,
float away, as if suggesting—-autumn is departing,
like snow birds flying south for winter.


About Dave Hood

Lover of poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction. Professional photographer and writer. Without the arts, life would be rather mundane, like a walk down the same old path on a dull day.
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