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.

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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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