Awe Poem by Leo Yankevich

A leaf, perhaps the last,
breaks from a maple tree,
spins in the chilly blast
of November, floating free

before it hits a wall,
attempts to run and leap,
only to quickly fall
onto a mounting heap

of others, stop, and fade.
No one admired its fight
with wind, and no one made
a chronicle of its flight.

It lies anonymous.
No one recalls or grieves.
It's one of numerous
other autumn leaves.

No one saw what you saw
that moment in the sun.
No one stood there in awe.
You were the only one.


2008