In her book Where the Crawdads Sing, Delia Owens describes the autumn leaves choosing their destiny. She writes… “autumn leaves don’t fall, they fly. They take their time and wander.” Five years ago, when I was living in Deep East Texas, I wrote a poem entitled “Fall.” I describe the leaves deciding when to let go, leaving (leafing!) of their own volition.
Now I hold these autumnal images in my imagination. I remember some of the things for which I was grateful back then. There is an abundance of things I am thankful for today. Happy Thanksgiving!
sitting in my rock garden
the autumn sun warms my back
tree shadows s t r e t c h across the
dry pale grass
steepled together in prayer
soft chirps of tentative choir birds
far away dog yawps
muffled thumps of falling acorns
a woodpecker’s rat-a-tat-tat ostinato
accompanied by the steady forest buzz
the golden/red/orange/brown canopy
holds its breath
a breeze stirs and
leaves let go
floating gently down
joining the congregation of leaves
who await my feet’s
shuffle, shush, crunch
-Tara L. Carnes
Carne, Tara. “Fall” The Rose in the World, Winter 2017, p.8.