After The Fallen Leaves Poem by Severien Meyer

After The Fallen Leaves


It is taken so much for granted...
The special noise of a gentle breeze,
As it ripples the tender
First-greened leaves of Spring.

And even the darker green
Hardened-off leaves of mid and late summer
Rustle nervously, when wind-blown.
Or squirrel-disturbed.

Autumn’s fading light, that spirits away nature’s green,
Leaves us with colored parchment pieces,
Barely clinging to stately silhouetted limbs,
Only to be moved once, or twice,
Or until a mighty gust bids them
The ultimate goodbye, as they fall
Randomly to Earth.

And as the leaves pass from something to something,
In the crisp air of day and eve,
All sounds are changed... enhanced,
As if the great acoustic tiles expert from beyond
Has tilted them just a bit,
Giving all sound a cleaner edge.

As I lie in bed, the midnight wail
Of a westbound freight, sings its lonesome tune.
Only this time, the sound has brightness... clarity.
Now the naked trees act not as a buffer
For those same sounds of bygone months,
But as bark-clad amplifiers,
Waiting to move all sound
In every direction at once.

So now the clicking rail sounds,
The whirring jet engine,
The distant cries of a playful child,
The warning horn of a river tow,
And even the wind itself,
Become something different from what they were...
After the fallen leaves.