The fallen leaves were dancing.
Not in summer’s greenness dangling,
Nor even rustling in the breeze,
In autumn’s colors hanging.
No! They were dancing on the ground,
Trying to resist the futility they found,
And looking to extend their existence
Beyond their annual bounds.
They danced frenetically,
In hopes that others would not see
Their loss of luster, loss of color,
Loss of purpose, off the trees.
In their disgrace, they were dancing,
In humiliation– refused to retire.
They brandished the look of life,
Seeking to avoid the fire.
Their dancing fell short of revelry,
The motion not being their own.
Each passerby merely espied
Insentient leaves windblown.
Yes, the fallen leaves were dancing!
Cherel S. Justice