Poetry

Leaf poem

Late October, and leaves from that ancient maple at the top of Dufferin
were scattered across roofs, yards, street.

Many that had hung close together during the bright
summer parted ways.

Some gusted east, towards the river, others south and west.
Still others struck out north for the open country.

Maybe this was due to their diverging political views,
or perhaps they had simply grown tired of each other’s company.

When the wind blew up again
the sky was filled with whorls of pitiless colour.