.

Leave

Above the land, suspended,
green and grand and splendid,

we furnish food for trees,
whisper with the breeze

till cold winds bluster in
and we turn harlequin.

Now that we’re on the ground,
you tote your toys around,

which scrape us up or, roaring,
send us whirling, soaring.

Yes, now that we are dead,
you have it in your head

that we must disappear—
and year on turning year

that all of us must go
to be replaced by snow.

.

.

Martin Elster (born 1954) is an award-winning poet with a background in rhythm as a percussionist with the Hartford Symphony Orchestra. Martin has won four Pushcart nominations as well as Best of the Net and prizes from the Science Fiction Poetry Association, Poetry Nook, and Rhymezone, among others. His most recent book is Celestial Euphony (Plum White Press, 2019).


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9 Responses

  1. Paul A. Freeman

    Wow! Such a simple style, yet I found myself enrapt, being happily lectured to by a leaf.

    Great stuff, Martin.

    Reply
  2. Shamik Banerjee

    I enjoyed your piece very much, Martin. The leave$ express themselves smoothly here. Truly, a memorable poem. Thank you for sharing it!

    Reply
  3. Elisa

    Quite clever and easy to read. With September fast approaching, a timely poem for the season. Thanks for sharing, Martin!

    Reply
  4. Margaret Coats

    With leaves as speaker, the title “Leave” may be a complaining imperative addressed to human beings–or it could be what the leaves understand humanity says to them through rakes and blowers. Very much liked the terse expression “turn harlequin.”

    Reply
  5. C.B. Anderson

    You have a soft touch, Martin, but you strike hard the right keys. Just a day in the life of a leaf.

    Reply

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