Poem: Falling Leaves


By Dave Hood

In the woods and cold, where there is silence and stillness,
I stroll along a path—with only my pressing thoughts
of “what might become of tomorrow.”

And then, yellow, autumn maple leaves grab my attention
for a moment.
There is beauty in this simplicity, I think to myself.

Inspired, I remove my camera from the knapsack,
focus the lens on these delightful leaves, press the shutter button.
A moment in time captured forever.

Then I hear rustling from behind,
as though someone else is here.
A gust of wind has visited unexpectedly,
I detect.

The Leaves, the ones I took a picture of,
flutter and fall from the branch,
like happiness ripped apart by an unexpected hardship.

Nothing remains the same, I think to myself.


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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