Brittle Dry Leaves (Nature Poem)

Brittle Dry Leaves

There
Yonder just a
Few clusters of
Dried leaves
They hang on the denuded
Maple, walnut, oak, or hawthorn
I can see them through
Our bedroom glass window

Often I wondered
About them
Why still cling on to
The mother tree
In this wintry 
Season
Why?
For the utilitarian
Modern man
They serve no purpose
Normally the tree shuts
Off all fluid during the 
Chilly autumn, then a sudden
Night freeze, a snap
The leaves turn up
Rather, display
Their colorful underwear!
And still keep a loving company
To the mother
These barren trees with dry bark
Barely enough to protect from 
The wind chill –
Enow, this spectacle alone
To trigger the image of “the world’s
Wretched, helpless poverty-stricken
Naked human mass of black hole”
Who talks to these trees?
In this dark cloud covered
Overcast season
In these freezing, frigid
Temperatures, tell me?

No, the world - particularly
The nature is not so
Cruel as we seem to think
The trees get visits from
The wandering deer
The bushy tailed squirrels
The blue jays, chickadees,
The hammering woodpeckers
The crows, doves, and even an 
Intermittent osprey
Even in this dead of winter
But these dried brittle leaves
Talk to the tree
In hushed whispers
As I watch them
I can see the winds
They record every single
Rustle, the slightest movement 
Of wind
No disturbance escapes ’em
They are almost like the
Sensitive tip of an atomic
Force microscope (AFM)
I cannot listen to the 
Whistling wind currents
But I can see each
Passage of aerial currents
They, together with the underneath
Murmuring waterfall
And the happy wooden
Landscape
With a flickering snowy veil
Brings a much needed
Morning cheer to us
The leaves, one may think
Them dead – but they
Are more alive now 
One day they may
Decorate the nest of a
Pregnant red squirrel!
Nay, there is more life
Among those dry
Brittle leaves
Than I can ever think of  

Copyright 2026 by the author