by Kat Georges
Falling leaf drifts into view.
A song stirs. Then science.
The leaf: once source of life for its host.
In its green: a gatherer of light and CO2.
Photosynthesizer by day. Bon vivant at night.
You should have seen this one’s wild dark times.
In the hot urban dance clubs, out every night.
Jiggling with every breath of a breeze.
Never paying a dime: not this one. No.
The moves brought attention—most good.
Then again—so many cameras these days.
A few “gotcha” shots made the papers and blogs.
Held to a branch by a stem, not a cell phone,
So many things can go wrong at the right times.
At its end now, the leaf: red-gold and wrinkled,
drifts to demise. A final dance. Down.
In the twist, a last look up to its past.
A branch nods its thanks, a trunk sways tenderly.
The leaf slides to the ground
and light memory.
