Dead Leaves

Submitted by Shaun Clamp

They scuttled on the dusty bricks
rolling past the iron trees
in desiccated cartwheels
to lawns, bounding
after each other, squabbling like birds –
flitting off, whirled up
under a car chassis.

But the wind brought forth a storm,
thundering,
raining,
falling heavily
into the morning

where they lay
with tar bruises trodden through
and sodden on the dusty bricks drying,
they lay in masses, unmoving
except the few that quivered
in fear of the street sweeper’s brush
and his swaying skoppie scythe.


 

Vita Brevis accepts poetry submissions year-round!
Painting: John Ruskin – Withered Oak Leaves

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Published by

Brian Geiger

Brian is a freelance writer and the Chief Editor of Vita Brevis, a popular online poetry magazine.

4 thoughts on “Dead Leaves”

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