Leaf from ADhD by Paul Devine

Now it is the end of July,
The corkscrew hazel leaves are broad
Succulent on their monkeypuzzled twigs.
The bower is a shady, sea-green cloud
And the dogwoods are in full and mighty bloom,
Revelling in their pink flowers.
We approach these trees and touch,
And we feel living warmth
And Tiny fires
Ruinous. Unstoppable.
After 90 million miles

We examine a leaf as it basks
It is flat and broad… the naive shape
Of a child’s drawing of a leaf
The edge appears smooth,
But, closer to…
It is finely toothed.
A tiny, delicate saw
The teeth curl. Blacken. Disintegrate and collapse.
Fragments of dust become nothing in the bright, hot dark

As time marches on
Growing darkness will trigger a cellular elongation within the leaf’s abscission layer.
Burning red and orange carotenoids, the trees’ technicolour bequest,
Will blaze for a few weeks.
The sun will become a pale, white marble in the sky.
Autumn will have its way with us all.
And then, perhaps in late October, a breeze
Will cause our leaf to tumble to the soil.
And as the human world becomes a furnace
A torrent
A hurricane
A desert
And by the long-dead remembrance of Christmas, it will be gone.
With us
Just more dirt on the ground.

• Alternative
• alternative
• gothic
• grand-guignol
• post-punk
• progressive
• United Kingdom