Submitted by Thom Kerr
The hour is early, predawn.
The clouds – vanished, the storm – over, the moon – full.
I pull my wrap tighter and shiver by the back window, listening to some nameless chanteuse croon and confess from the confines of the FM dial.
Warming my hands on a cup of tea, I watch the last two leafs in the tree.
They hover together in the gentle breeze.
They dance in the moonlight. Embracing, spinning, reaching – enjoying one another.
Caressing like lovers until one falls away; surrendering to the pressure of the wind and the weight of the clinging raindrops.
The fallen leaf touches down. I pore on archaic words and phrases, planning a poem.
Photo credit: Autumn Effect at Argenteuil – Claude Monet