Leaves

It sounded like rain

but it was thousands of little leaves

falling at once from the trees,

covering the ground like snow.

In the midst of this was a lone tree.

All of its leaves were still like statues, except one

(one that was so strange among the others).

It swung back-and-forth, back-and-forth

like the pendulum of an old grandfather clock--

back-and-forth, back-and-forth--

keeping a regular rhythm.

The others, perhaps, were keeping guard,

stiff and erect, red and black--

like the Guards at Buckingham Palace.

And then suddenly along the walkway skipped its brother.

It sounded just like the steps of the neighbor boy

but it was this big, orange-and-yellow,

dry-and-crisp maple leaf.

It was as if it were trying to keep up with his sibling rival--

pitter-pat, pitter-pat

but all the while was creating a beat of its own.

I was spell-bound.

I was a child again

and then something that hadn't happened in years:

I was skipping in unison with Mr. Maple

and rocking to the beat of the pendulum.

How nice it was to be a child once more.

As I ran into the house, the wild breezes followed me

and the ornaments on the tree began rocking

back-and-forth, back-and-forth,

except one which hung in stationary elegance

to welcome in a new Christmas Day!

Rosemary Jenkins