One Leaf Falling

One leaf falls, black mote upon the breath of time. In melancholy’s dark dance it drifts and shifts. I lift my eyes and trace the eddies through its sinuous descent. From below all colour’s charred upon the dull furnace of the cloud-racked sky; beneath my feet autumn’s vibrant counterpane awaits.

I hold out a hand, adjust, step forward; hope consummated in the aerial flight.

Behind I sense the tower. Firmly rooted it soars, looming in scraperboard monochrome, jackdaw-crowned and cloud swaying, tipping me off kilter, reducing me to this. I place a hand upon the stone, trace a finger along the mortar line, and invite the infusion of time and place and wonder. What hands? I think, What rough caress shaped and set?

Above, bough and leaf speak the sea’s tongue, squalls counterpoint the sighing rush. Autumn’s siren song turns me again, as one leaf returns to earth. Emblazoned in ochre-red and glistening it rests, evading, un-captured.  

The loss of a wish draws down like an anchor, and roots me in loam and turf. Boot toes darkened by yesterday’s rain. Spirits dulled in exquisite suffering. Self-pity a welcome mantle of the season, wrapped sensuously, enveloping.

Torn between living wood and dead stone I stand. One, testament to perpetual re-birth; one, raised in monumental death. And so I choose my path, and take death’s hand. Dark stone on skin. Dressed block upon soft palm. Soaring aspiration dwarfing searing doubt.

Then, with cries darker than the oak’s ancient heart they fly. Jackdaw black. Swirling amidst the new-stirred leaves. The tower draws my gaze upwards towards the rough-hewn blade that ploughs the clouds, and delivers its selfless gift.

I reach out my hand and catch her; sister to the one leaf falling. Dream’s fulfilment.

Make a wish.

Comments 2

 
Rosy Cole on Wednesday, 24 September 2014 18:19

This is such a rich, original and picturesque configuration of fact and feeling, atmosphere and dreaming. The juxtaposing of images gives it a mysterious charge.

Thanks, Steven!

This is such a rich, original and picturesque configuration of fact and feeling, atmosphere and dreaming. The juxtaposing of images gives it a mysterious charge. Thanks, Steven!
Steven Hobbs on Thursday, 25 September 2014 13:37

Thank you Rosy. I love the beguiling melancholy of Autumn, and couldn't resist writing this yesterday.

Thank you Rosy. I love the beguiling melancholy of Autumn, and couldn't resist writing this yesterday.
Already Registered? Login Here
Guest
Monday, 19 February 2018

Captcha Image

Latest Comments

Stephen Evans A Visitor to your Planet: A One-Minute Play
19 February 2018
High praise! Thank you.
Katherine Gregor A Visitor to your Planet: A One-Minute Play
18 February 2018
Beckett would be envious.
Stephen Evans A Visitor to your Planet: A One-Minute Play
05 February 2018
I just realized that the last two posts were plays. How true to the spirit of The Green Room!
Rosy Cole A Visitor to your Planet: A One-Minute Play
04 February 2018
Interesting dynamic. Reflects the popular conception of 'democracy'. (Look at it this way, the US is...
Ken Hartke Flipping the Omelet
01 February 2018
One word: Fritatta

Latest Blogs

Miserere mei, Deus: secundum magnam misericordiam tuam. Et secundum multitudinem miserationum tuarum, dele iniquitatem meam. Amplius lava me ab iniq...
At Rise:    A man is doing something. An alien enters and watches him. Alien:       Why are you doing that? Man:        Needs doing. Alien:       H...
The Scene: A bar. The Players: Novelists, children's writers, academics, translators, journalists, biographers, and other assorted literary intellect...
  I was born only a few short miles from the Father of Waters. The Mississippi River is a constant presence in my psyche and my memories; always chan...
Very few people who have eaten my cooking realize that I am an expert cook. My topic today is flipping the omelet. (Disclaimer: my omelets don't lo...