A Leaf out of Time

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Another old poem, this, recently unearthed under layers of dust in a cupboard; it reveals a love affair with rhyme that has lasted the best part of a lifetime although I seem to have rekindled  another on-off affair with blank verse recently.

At school, more years ago than I care to remember, we were sometimes given homework by our English teacher, ‘Jock’ Rankin the title of which would comprise just a few words. We were expected to  comment at any length (or brevity) on these words and what they meant to us; subsequently, the best comments would be shared with and debated in class another time.  One such title was Beginnings and Endings. After much head scratching, I asked my mother what on earth there was to say about beginning and endings other than they…well, begin and end?

My mother merely shrugged over the ironing, “It depends how you choose to see either, I suppose. I mean, some of us see endings as no more or less than beginnings that have run their course and are up for something new…”

Jock was impressed and asked me where I had found the quote. When I said, my mother, he asked me to thank her for making his day.

Oh, but I love autumn, so beautiful if tinged with sadness; memories of spring and summer held in safe-keeping by Earth Mother to be rummaged and enjoyed over and over through even the worst winters...

A LEAF OUT OF TIME

I've floated free, like a leaf
in a world still half-asleep,
kept company with sparrows,
watched its willows weep

I've watched the hands of time
sign warnings to passers-by
concerning the fall of Icarus,
(the eternal How-and-Why)

I've seen foxes stalk their kill,
heard the victim’s last cry,
protesting an ages-old truth,
(a time to live, a time to die)

I've heard the lonely singing
love songs loud and clear;
lasting memories of a summer,
though its close drawing near

Breeze dropping, the leaf too
that once had pride of place,
but gently, evergreen epiphany
through all time and space

I'm left lying on a bed of moss,
an everyday lesson learned,
that each new day, my being gay,
is but a leaf in Nature’s hand

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2017