Ode to a Leaf
Ode to a Leaf
February 29, 2013
By: Louis K. Broussard Sr.
Once was a leaf a top its mother oak as it fluttered from its stationed post
It even dreamt of how freedom felt if its stem had not so stubbornly helt
To wander down the red dirt hill then to sail across the clear spring rill
To see the flowered grassy green field beyond the meadow and the old grist mill
As with autumn it brought an icy frost and with the cold its bright colors soon lost
It suddenly dropped downward light and crisp, t’was quick to feel of freedom’s bliss
The spirit filled breeze caught the falling leaf and tossed it as a vagrant thief
Down the path and through the field, and down the hill passed Grant’s old mill
There it became wedged in a picket fence and none has seen that wishful leaf since
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It was fall and the campground was quiet. The trees showed color and when a breeze found it way to the earth, leaves would fall in unison, like the beginning of a play.
