top of page
  • Writer's pictureHeather Sager

In the name of the decayed leaf


Might I decay, in russet brilliance, just like you, leaf.

Fall adopts her prettiest dress

when the singing thrush appears.

With age might an empathy of improved humanity

suffuse my being and radiate, outward,

like the color of a maple tree.

The sap of youth cooks to the sugar of measured thinking.

The leaf, with its final dissolution,

breathes into the earth’s garden newfound joy

and rebirth.

Children play in mounds of yellow and red

whispers that are only the laughter

of those jolly souls

who have gone before.


 

Heather Sager lives in Illinois where she writes poetry and fiction. Her most recent writing appears in The Basilisk Tree, Backwards Trajectory, Black Poppy Review, ZiN Daily, Cosmic Daffodil, Remington Review, ActiveMuse, The Closed Eye Open, Magma, Spinozablue, and more journals.

Comments


bottom of page