Leaves In Time
I saw them in spring, peeking out of their covers,
Cautiously testing the air, gingerly showing their colors.
The next time I looked, I had a definite change of view.
They had stretched and yawned, grown, well beyond tender and new.
Their soft swaying shadows gently enfold a wee fawn.
While unseen fiddling crickets play a sweet old cradle song.
Sheltering him intuitively, they spend their most sumptuous days,
Shielding their small spotted tenant from heat and winds and rains.
When summer and autumn were finished the baby was nearly half grown.
The last time I saw their splendor, they were fulfilled and freely blown.
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Comments about this poem (Leaves In Time by Connie Yost )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
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- As I Grew Older, Langston Hughes
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
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