clinging tenaciously by its needle toe

the dry golden leaf

trembles and twists

a tortured dance in the chill wind

and refuses to let go -

afraid to die

the breeze reconnoiters

draws back and whips again

wheezing up the trunk

rifling the raggedy branches

into a twitching frenzy

but the little leaf holds on

the shifty air hangs still

and contemplates

the shrivelled yellow leaf

spinning on its skeleton thread

etching nervous patterns

at the tip of its tiny twig

relentless the wind shivers  once more

a testy bustle in the black boughs

with a quiver of finality

the little leaf snaps -

leaps into the cold blue air

and cries  ‘I  fly!  I’m free!

Cynthia Buell Thomas