Turning Leaves

A Poem or Four

Chris Noonan

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Photo by insung yoon on Unsplash

The leaves are turning yellow
From green to golden hue
And as always, at this time of year,
My thoughts turn to you.
I wonder where you are
And how you have been
While I dream that our paths might’ve crossed
And hope that they will again.
To walk under falling leaves
A carpet gathered at our feet.

Home is a strange place
When you’ve come back
From being far away.
The positioning of items
Seems at odds
With the memory.
As if a tiny whirlwind
Had swept through
Moving everything around
Just enough to seem out of place.
I forgot to throw the milk out
So now the carton waits
By the sink
Until I’m ready
To finally return home.

A solitary branch,
Outside my window,
Has taken the plunge
And embraced the autumnal turn.
A squirrel performs acrobatic leaps,
Bushy tail whipping through the air.
I silently applaud from my spot
Sitting on the floor.

I feel as if my world changed
During my week away,
Not just the season and the trees
But me.
I’m sure it will pass, this strange feeling of newness,
Just as Autumn becomes Winter
And soon ends in Spring,
But for now, I want to linger
And consider what the turning of the leaves
Could mean.

© Chris Noonan
Thank you for reading.

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